


Sketch Me, Baby

by Kara_J



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Art, Art AU, College AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 06:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kara_J/pseuds/Kara_J
Summary: Soul and Maka have been assigned as partners for a team-based illustration project featuring each other!  It sounds easy enough, but there’s just one problem: Soul draws women with unrealistic proportions and all of Maka’s men look feminine!  They must learn to collaborate and work with each other if they want to reach an agreement and ace the assignment!





	1. Your Name in my Little Black Book

Introduction to Illustration doesn’t sound like a difficult class.  Ever since Maka began art school, she’s been looking forward to this part.  It seems pretty simple: designing and drawing is her forte.  Things haven’t been as exciting as she’d imagined, though.  They have mainly studied the history and concepts for successful audience capturing.  She finds herself yawning, the teacher’s words fading out slowly.  One word sticks out like a sore thumb: “ _partnership._ ”  She wakes back up and her attention quickly jumps back to Professor Stein, who’s just underlined the word “comic” on his dry-erase board.  Tuning her ears and eyes to the front, the assignment already sounds intriguing—and daunting.

“You will all be given assigned partners.  I’m familiar with many of you already as previous students, as well as your art styles, so you will be paired with those who I feel can benefit you the most.  You will then complete a twenty-page comic strip together telling a creative story featuring both of you.” A few smiles curve up at the idea of an _actual_ comic project.  After all, for many in this room, drawing has always been fun.  Dr. Stein continues, though, outlining the rules: the style must look uniform and can only show minimal differences between the two artists’ work.  Furthermore, no one is allowed to swap partners. _Because this assignment is about agreement and teamwork_.  The hint is pretty obvious.  It all sounds easy, but team-based projects have never worked out well for her.  Maka always ends up doing all the work.

She listens to the names called out, two at a time, not particularly paying full attention to others until hers pops up.  “Maka Albarn and Soul Evans.” Soul?  Soul- _fucking_ -Evans?  He’s the _laziest_ one in the program, and he’s going to treat it like high school all over again…  All she’s seen him do is sleep all day then cram last minute when finals are due.  How he’s even passed his classes this far along is a wonder.  There are more motivated people in here than _him_!  It's nothing but bad news.  She’ll be damned if she lets her partner’s lack of drive screw her grade over.  

 Professor Stein finishes assigning the partnerships and instructs them to begin planning their projects before the end of class.  Every team needs have a general idea of where they want to go with it.  To ensure they’ve done this, the first step of the assignment has already been given: draw each other’s character.  It sounds simple…. _if_ Soul intends to do his part.  Everyone’s started their discussions except for Maka and her “partner”.  Soul doesn’t appear alert at all.  He stares straight forward without an ounce of attentiveness in his expression.  He’s been in every one of her classes and every time, he wears the same unenthused face. 

Simply put: his lack of interest drives her crazy.  Or maybe it’s the strange ruby shade of his eyes in combination with the pale shade of his messy mop top.  She can’t deny wondering if it’s all artificially done.  Either way, college is for those who actually _want_ to pursue something and less for those who are determined to sleep through it.  Seeing as Mr. Evans hasn’t come over to meet her, she gets up and trudges to his seat just a few rows down and sits down beside him.  “Uh, hi… I’m Maka.”

Her greeting earns a lazy gaze from her now-partner.  “I know.”

Her lips twist into a dissatisfied cringe.  Apparently, Soul is rude as well.  She tries to prod for a better answer since it’s nearing the end of class and Maka doesn’t have the patience to argue about sincerity - or lack thereof.  She may as well figure out what they- or she- needs to do while he’s here in front of her.  “So, about the project--”

Soul silently waves her off a little as he sits up in his seat, a hint of disappointment and impatience in his reluctant sigh.  “Yeah, so I don’t know what kind of comic you were wanting to do, but I vote for something sci-fi.”

Maka grits her teeth, taken aback by his quick comment.  Great,  something else to add to her list of Soul’s annoying habits.  She turns to face him a bit more with arms crossed and a confident, straight posture.  “Excuse me, but you can’t just dictate what _you_ want!  This is a _team_ project and I get some say-so in it, too.”

His gaze is still dull, as though her words have gone straight through one ear and out the other.  “Well, I’m pretty sure your ideas would be boring, so I volunteered as tribute.”

“You don’t even know me!  I have a very broad imagination, thank you very much, and straight A’s to prove it.”

 “Alright, miss _know-it-all_ …” Now he’s leaning back against his chair, arms fallen to his side, and looks halfway to barely meet her eyes.  Finally, a hint of attentiveness!  It’s a rather presumptuous response; she’s not as egotistical as he’s making it sound.  Instead of arguing in the middle of class, she simply dismisses it as a poor attitude from a lack of sleep.  She’s not here to make a scene. “Name some ideas, and I’ll say yay or nay,” he continues.

Maka scoffs, thoughts dwelling on how she wound up with such a shitty partner.  His science fiction suggestion is so overdone and cliché.  If she wants to see aliens, she can go to the movie theatre.  Something they can relate to sounds like a better option; they wouldn’t have to extensively research.  “Coffee shop?”  _Because what college student doesn’t rely on a cup of caffeine now and then?_

“Too generic,” says the albino who suggested the most popular theme of today’s entertainment.

Maka raises an eyebrow.  That was an absolutely thoughtless answer.  But thinking back to it again, it does seem like twenty pages of people talking at a table _could_ get boring.  She gazes briefly at the ceiling, tapping on her chin as the next, and probably most relatable, idea pops into her head.  “School life!”

“Boring.”

She crosses her arms, determined to find something a little bit normal he’ll accept.  Unless,  ah ha!  That’s it!  Perking up in the chair, she can’t help but to smile at the idea she feels he will enjoy too.  She points in the air, as if the words are a teleprompt before her, exclaiming, “with comedy!  That’s something everyone loves.”

“Yeah, okay,” Soul replies.  Funny how sarcastic that came off, voice higher pitched than normal as his head cocks to the side with a fake smile.  “Let’s jump on the popularity train and copy every manga known to mankind.”  That forced smile drops just as quickly as hers and shifts back into another deadpan stare as he slouches back down.

So he’s getting smart with her now?  Soul probably thinks he’s won, too!  Fine, two can play that game.  “Alright, then…”  She tries to stifle an amused laugh.  “A tale about a really smart girl who loves the library and a stubborn, lazy fool who’s failing class, so he has meet her there for tutoring.”

“Ex-excuse me?”  Soul slowly rises up in his chair and turns to stare at her in disbelief.  He’s definitely more focused now, his posture standing higher than she’s ever seen.  He leans back with a bewildered expression.  

“You heard me, frat boy.” _Not that she actually knows if he parties_ … _she just needs his undivided attention and it worked_.  “If we don’t decide on something, then I’m sticking to that!”  Maka has to admit, she’s tired of their fruitless argument.  By now, other students are looking their way, silently chastising them for disrupting their own projects.  Seems she's made a scene anyway.  His response leaves no regrets, though.  She can’t let their icy stares beat her down, so she looks back towards her partner.  

Now Soul is glancing at the clock hanging on the wall.  Time is running short and in the next few minutes, they’ll both be packing and running to their next class.  “Alright, alright.  Then…”  He grumbles under his breath, scratching his head as his eyes search for answers in thin air.  “How about a _book nerd..._ who works as an info-tech at a mid-way space station and a pilot who’s preparing for a dangerous mission, seeking advice from her.”

Thinking on his suggestion, she realizes it’s actually a decent idea.  She would get her library; he would get his adventure.  The concept is a good compromise, so they nod in agreement.  “Alright, you got it!  We’ll design each other’s characters tonight,” Maka concludes.  At last she stands back up, grabbing her notepad.  She’d hoped to get in some good planning, but he’s a mule that waited till the last minute to communicate like an adult.  Maka begins to walk back where her backpack still lyes unattended, but halfway, she stops and spins back around abruptly, pointing a finger firmly his way.  “And don’t you be late with it!  I want to actually pass this!”

 -.-.-.-.-.-.

A day later, Maka waits for her partner, her _lazy_ partner, in a library study room.  A quick glance at her phone tells her thirty minutes have already passed. It’s just like his type to be late.  No need to fret, though.  If he doesn’t show, he just doesn’t show.  Instead, she reads a book to pass the time.  Twirling one of her ash-blonde pigtails with her free hand, she dives even further into the scene.  It’s all a game of Clue.

The deeper she gets into it, the more the answer is knocking.  She can feel the presence of a murderer disguised right under her nose, a character she’s probably already well familiar with- and attached to.  That’s how they all go.  Strange how real the knock sounds, though. It gets louder and louder, until the sound pops her back into reality once more.  Jumping in her seat, she turns quickly to face the window, heart nearly stopping.  On the other side of the tinted glass, Soul holds up a sketch pad by his head, pointing at it with raised brows.  “O-oh!”  Waving her hand, she motions him inside, closing the book and setting it back down on the plastic table.  Could the university get any cheaper with their furnishings?

“Sorry, you looked like you were enjoying it,” Soul says as he walks in and plops into the equally cheap chair across from her, cushionless wood that isn’t particularly comfortable.  “So, about that character design...” he says.  A blue, tattered sketchbook with shreds peeping out, tell-tale signs of torn out sheets, is dropped onto the table with a thud.  Not only does he sleep in class, but he abuses his materials, too. The list of Soul-pet-peeves just keeps getting longer.  If he wants a good grade, surely he’ll take better care of the sketches they create later.  When she remains silent for a moment, he continues, “You do have yours, right?  ‘Cuz if not, I won’t show you mine.” 

 _That stingy bastard_.  He’s more sly than she took him for, playing her game against her!  Somewhere, at some time, he’s going to slack off, though.  She feels it in her bones.  Shooting Soul a quick glare, Maka bends down, unzips her backpack, and pulls out a much neater sketchbook.  Unlike Soul, she doesn’t tear out every picture she draws.  “Yes.  Of _course_ I do.”  

Each partner sits idly across from each other, flipping through pages of incomplete sketches.  Some have sample color dabs, others have crossed out figures that will never be finished.  Maka can’t say that she’s ever truly seen his art, only that he’s always in her class and seems to still pass, so this ought to be a surprise.  She’s confident he’ll like her drawing of him.  Pride fills her heart for the picture she’d put so much thought into and paints a smile on her face as the excitement builds.   

Finally, they both find the right page and turn each art pad around in exchange, each other’s portraits singled out to share.  Soul hasn’t actually looked at hers yet, but sits anxiously, eyes turned her way, watching for her reaction, a silent beg for approval.  Maka gets it, though.  A good justification always lifts her spirit too.  It’s exciting to see how much he cares.  This partnership might not be so bad after all! Her jade eyes widen in shock and her jaw drops, though.  Skill-wise, he’s better than she thought him to be, shading and lines done in solidity and confidence, but this isn’t a picture of _her_ at all!  A hefty chest in size “GG”, a Barbie waistline, and hips that look like she’s birthed four children already!  Not to mention, gaudy, overdone makeup!  _What the hell is this?_!

Oh, and the _outfit…_ Her shirt doesn’t look like it should be able to hold her chest in!  A deep V-slit shirt drops so low, it almost reaches the navel with no undershirt for modesty- all bare skin and cleavage!  And that miniskirt… if she can call that a miniskirt!  He may as well have drawn her naked! There’s absolutely nothing left to the imagination of her fictional 2D body.  Soul’s still included her classic pigtails, but the hairstyle does nothing to tone it down.

“Yeah, I thought the design was kind of cool, too,” Soul interjects with a proud smile.  Now he’s just insulting her, his tone as pleased as can be as if there’s nothing wrong with this picture.

Maka’s teeth grit till you can almost hear the grinding.  She hasn’t been this angry since she moved out of her father’s house!  She slams her novel against his thick head, the white strands separating from the momentum like a splitting sea.

Soul instantly falls off his chair, rubbing his head.  “Wh-what’d you do that for?!”  Slowly standing up and grunting in pain, Soul taps lightly on his head and brings his hand back down to investigate the damage.  Turns out it’s a clean hit that might later turn into a potentially nasty bruise.

“I was supposed to be a librarian!   _A_ _librarian_!  Not some eye candy!  Just draw some platform boots on me while you’re at it!”  Somehow this suggestion seems to merely entice Soul  as he gasps and smiles in awe of the suggestion, an invisible light bulb shining brightly above his head.  Maka should shatter it, and she will!  “Why would you even envision me like this?!”

Now he’s propping back up on the edge of his seat and excitement bubbles in his voice again.  “It’s a space station!  A comic about space!  It’s cool!  Who wouldn’t want to see a character like this?!”  His smile and animating arms is not making her feel any better.

“Well, for starters, not me! Secondly, do you want us to flunk, you dumbass!?  This is so sexist!  There’s no coverage at all!  Did you even think about how painful breasts that large are on the back at all?  This shirt has ZERO support!”

“It’s a library!  How much coverage do you actually need if you’re not going to be fighting?”

Soul is an absolute pain to reason with!  She heaves an aggravated sigh, closing her eyes as if the notion will make him disappear.  This is NOT acceptable!  Now she’ll have to drive a point with her picture.  “Oh yeah?  And here I did a _nice_ photo of you...”  

Yanking Maka’s art book off the table, he glances at the picture she so delicately put together.  How _dare_ he be so rough with _her_ sketchbook!  “Hm, okay let’s see how reasona….”

His words fade into silence, which proves her point as expected.  “I told you, Soul.  Right proportions are everything.”

His gaze is slow to meet hers.  “Professor Stein told you to draw _me_.”

Maka won’t let Soul’s opinion override hers!  “And clearly I did-“

He cuts her off, though.  “No”, Soul begins.  “This is a woman.”   Red eyes stare deadpan back at her as the art pad is lowered back onto the table between them cautiously.  

“I worked really hard on it!  Take it, or leave it.  I’m not catering your character to your every whim and wish.  I’m being _realistic_.”  Because he’s not in control of her art and she refuses to let him be.

Soul pinches the bridge of his nose as he lets out a deep breath he’s been holding. “Why in the hell do I have makeup on? And look at this figure!”  He points insistently at the body frame that’s supposed to represent him.  “It’s clearly feminine.  FEMININE! There’s no masculine muscle tissue at all!”

Her voice raises in defense, “Yes, there is.” She’s seriously going to have to spell out every line drawn for him to understand the picture.  Taking her sketchpad back, it’s her turn to point at the details.  “Right there!  Chest muscles and a slim fit in the waist to show great fitness!”  How can Soul not be grateful for this amazing design??

“Those are size ‘B’ breasts. Any larger, and I’ll be rocking a C cup.”

Maka chunks her borrowed novel violently his way, barely missing his head as he dodges and covers his face with tan arms.  The book chips a piece off the off-white plastered wall, making a loud thud that should have the librarian coming around the corner to kick them out any minute now. After a brief moment of silence, though, Soul turns his attention back to his offender.  “Well, B cups look a lot healthier than those GG’s you drew!”

“Not on a _man_!  That’s called having man-boobs!”

Maka sighs in exhaustion.  She’s done for, her grade is toast, and it’s going to be all Soul’s fault.  To judge her art so _harshly…_ Either way, there’s a deadline to meet and Professor Stein specifically indicated he wouldn’t swap anyone under any circumstance.  “Look, Soul, we have to find a way to make this work.  Obviously, my character art is more realistic, and your backgrounds are well…”  She could return his shitty attitude back at him and leave him to think his art is terrible, but that’s far from the truth, aside from his 40-20-40 female figures.  A quick glance at one of his sketches displays the patience he must have for meticulous backwork.  With a hesitant sigh, she continues, if only to inflate his ego as little as possible.  “Your backgrounds are slightly better, so let’s strike a deal.”

 A white eyebrow rises suspiciously. They have little time left till their next class, so he listens with undivided attention.

 The blonde student continues, determined to win a passing grade on this unexpected clash of an assignment. Why?  Why did they have to do this with partners?  If only Stein knew the bind he was putting them in!  “I’ll draw the characters first, then hand them to you to finish the backgrounds. That way it’s easy and fast, and we both know what to do without crossing each other’s work.  Deal?”

Soul grumbles, a faint complaint barely audible to her ears.  “Fine, but at least try to draw me with some masculinity this time??  No breasts or hourglass figure, please?”

“And you better not turn me into a fan-service character!  If you do, I swear…” The girl grits her teeth on the last word, eyes shooting daggers.  “I _swear_ , I’ll burn it and make you start all the way over again!”

 

 


	2. Roommate Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul receives the first page of his and Maka's comic, bent on fixing it before his roommate can even come home.

Now that they know how they’re going to operate this, it’ll be easy, so Soul’s really not sure what challenge the teacher had in mind when giving them this assignment.  It’s as simple as this: she draws the action, hands it to him, then he adds a background.  They never actually have to cross paths other than at school, especially with their matching schedules. Most people find backgrounds monotonous, but he enjoys turning what would normally be a simple portrait into something more complete.  In the process of figuring out the right perspectives, he can take his mind off other worries. It's an odd quirk, but it's his meditation.

Once home, Soul’s can finally sit down and focus on getting the backgrounds finished on the first page of their comic.  He chucks his bookbag carelessly onto the couch and makes his way towards the kitchen table, plopping into a chair with a manilla envelope before his eyes.  The question is whether he still looks like a girl or not.  The picture will need a background by tonight. Thank goodness Blake has a date.  His ambitious, loud, and obnoxious roommate just made things official with Tsubaki, even dyed his hair blue in an attempt to impress her more.  How having blue hair woos women, Soul will never know.  Still, he’s not shocked.  Her long, jet black hair is gorgeous and she rocks a lean, but full, figure- everything Blake admires.  Honestly, she’s probably the only one who can handle him, blessed with the patience of a saint.

Unclasping the envelope and pulling the drawing out carefully, Soul finds that Maka has a great eye for composition and a great mind for story telling.  She really knows how to lead into and animate a scene. He can tell exactly what’s going on from how everyone is positioned and which actions are the main focus.  This will be easy to follow!  

Only… oh no.  No, no, no!  He still has that feminine figure and those pretty eyes!  This shit’s not gonna fly at all, even if he has to take it upon himself to pull a double and adjust it.  Maka’s apparently going to be stubborn as a mule.  Two can play that game!  Just as the eraser finally comes into sight at the bottom of the bag, he hears the door open and slam closed.

_Shit…_

Blake cannot, _absolutely cannot_ , be allowed to see the comic!  His roommate will never let him live down the image of his feminized body!  Soul spots the eraser again and grabs it as quickly as he can, but before he can scramble back to his feet, Blake is already hovering over Maka’s “masterpiece”.

“YOOOOOOO, is this your comic project?!”  The feminine paper atrocity has already found its way into Blake’s hands, four inches from his too-curious eyes.  The image soaks into his mind, impossible to erase now.

Soul can do nothing but stare like a deer caught in headlights.  Now even the neighbors will know since Blake's outburst will likely be heard through their ridiculously thin walls!  No feasible excuse comes to mind, except to lay the blame exactly where it belongs.  “Dude, that’s all Maka’s work, not mine.  I'm just here to add to it.”

“The fuuuuuu….”  Blake trails off, bug eyes wide in shock.  “I didn’t think she was into that kind of stuff!”

Whatever his friend is referring to can’t be anything good.  Soul’s desperate for an answer.  There has to be some way he can diffuse this situation, so he shifts into an ignorant act.  “You mean art?  That _is_ what we're studying.”

“No, man!  I mean this girl x girl stuff!”   _Great,_ the diversion didn’t work...  Soul’s dignity is royally screwed.  Blake just keeps going on, though, digging Soul’s grave deeper and deeper.  “Clearly, she’s got an agenda here!” he continues, waving the art in the air.  “Leave it up to the quiet ones, they say!  Maybe she’ll even draw you into some of the action too!  Your character’s gonna be one lucky dog!”

The lewd, uncensored comment turns Soul beet red.  The truth escapes his hesitant lips, anyway.  Lying has never been one of his strengths.  “Actually that’s…. me…. she drew…”

Now his friend’s speech sputters into a burst of laughter.  “ _No way_!” Blake manages to spit out in the midst of his fit of amusement.

“Uh, yeah way?  I can’t help it if she doesn’t know how to draw a man.”

“Maybe you should teach her then.”   Blake sends Soul a mischievous wink and sets the picture back on the table. Soul can only grumble... he really needs to shut up.  “ _Soul-ina_.”

Muttering under angry and embarrassed breath, Soul makes his way back to the table, ready to fix this ridiculousness.  “C’mon, man!  It’s not that funny!”

“Oh, and just sayin’, if she drew you any cuter, even _I_ would want to bang you.  Later, _dudette_....”  Blake disappears down the hallway and into his room before Soul can get in another word.

Shooting an unseen icy glare, Soul quickly gets to work.  If he’s going to keep this problem fixed and under wraps, he’s going to need to invest in a lot more erasers.  He’ll be damned if he lets the comic go online like this!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It’s bright and early, _too_ early.  Why she planned on meeting him _before_ school baffles her when they _share the same damn classes_.  This is an extra hour of sleep the girl could have had instead of peering around outside like an idiot.  Hell, she could have been reading instead. 

Maka finally spots her partner across the walkway with two cups of coffee in his hands.  The weather is getting cooler, so the surprise is rather pleasant.  She doesn’t typically order drinks from Deathbucks café.  Her work-study job doesn’t pay enough to cover luxuries like that, so the cheap stuff tends to be the go-to.  He’s waiting for her where planned: the wooden benches around the school’s center piece, a beautiful large round water fountain.  Not that the campus is very large at all; in fact, it’s rather small compared to most well-known institutions, but it’s still very pretty in its own small ways.  With a quick jog, she reaches where he’s sitting, taking a seat beside him.

“Here…” he offers, a deadpan tone giving away exactly what kind of a morning person he is.  The bags under his eyes only exaggerate his lack of enthusiasm.  Soul unzips his backpack and pulls out the same manilla envelope she’d left him with yesterday.  Maka’s fears scream doubts that just maybe he changed his mind and decided procrastination was worth more, but his simple answer is enough to soothe her.  “Done,” he says as he hands her the envelope with barely enough time to cover his yawn.  He’s proved her wrong!  No wonder he looks so dead this morning.

She beams a smile at him for once (not that he noticed while almost falling asleep on the bench).  Excited to see the final piece, the blonde cautiously slides the artwork out of the envelope, careful not to spill any of her hot beverage or press dirty fingers on it.  The backgrounds are absolutely _superb_.  It’s perspective, use of space, and logic of distance is measured in perfection!  Along with her character art it’s….

Wait, he _didn’t…_

Her character’s breasts are four times as large as they were before she handed it to him, and her butt, her _butt_ …  “What the hell, Soul?!”  Her loud outburst pops him awake and he fumbles with the drink bouncing about in his hands, desperate to stop if from spilling on his pants.  Her hint doesn’t register as he does nothing but stare quizzically.  She could draw a question mark on his face right now, and it’d match the dumbfounded look he’s giving her, seemingly devoid of comprehensive thought.  “This isn’t what I drew, Soul!  I thought we agreed that I would be the one to draw the characters, and you would draw the backgrounds!”

“The backgrounds _are_ there.  I did my job!”

“My ass, you did!  Sure, there’s backgrounds now, but the anatomy on these characters are different from what I gave you!”  Looking back at the picture, the body proportions are off again.  They’re not what she remembers drawing.  It’s enhanced beyond reality. 

“So it was just a little _expansion_.  Everything else is the same.  I just thought it looked good.  Thought maybe you would agree, too.”

“Look, the next one is ready.  Don’t make me question trusting you with it!”  Maka begins to hand page two to him, but before Soul can grab it, she pulls it back away from his reach.  “Seriously, if I see ANY of that bullshit editing on this one, just remember, I can edit yours too. Maybe I’ll even give you a pretty set of C cups instead!”

“Yeah, whatever.  Let’s just get this done,” Soul retorts, taking the sheet from her hand a little too forcefully.

Maka can’t afford to deal with this kind of attitude right now.  “Just do your thing and let me do mine, okay??  Or else we’re going to fall behind!”

Soul waves a dismissive hand and wears a blank expression.  “Yeah, yeah.”

Maka lightens her tone as she reminds her partner, “I have class now, and so do you.”  She gathers her stuff and takes another sip of her coffee.  He’s an ass, but she’s thankful for the hot drink.  It’s somewhat earned him another chance after that dick move he pulled on her character.  It won’t work every time, though.  “Remember, same schedules?”

“Yes, _mom_ ,” Soul scoffs, reluctantly following the notion. 


	3. Dinner's on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maka learns about a skill Soul has-and she intends on using it often.

Soul hasn’t touched her character since that first initial page, but he’s sure as hell editing his.  Maka has him looking better than she’s ever done, and he’s being an arrogant prick, a rich, spoiled brat that wants his way or nothing at all.  If it drives the point any further, this stupid space theme also happened because of _his_ insistence.  

She ponders if drawing in the same room at the same time might stop his little alterations and it’s odd to hear Soul accept the proposition so gladly.  If he wanted to keep editing his figure art behind her back, he should have tried to decline, but the idea seemed more of a relief.  Relaxation visibly washed over him at the suggestion.

Unfortunately, the library study rooms are occupied for the entire next week.  The tables are consistently packed with party jocks that are more interested in ditching classes. It looks like chaos, too.  Their black and white jackets, skull symbols embossed on the arms, stay thrown on the floors like a game to see who can be the messiest.  Plus, they’re quite loud.

At this rate, they’ll never get the project done.  The choice boils down to her place or his, and she honestly wonders if it is wise to expose her little abode, a one bedroom studio that’s meant for her and her alone.  However, Soul is quite opposed to them drawing at his apartment.  “C’mon Maka, Blake’s gonna pop in at the most _inconvenient_ time,” he whines.  It’s like he’s still five years old.   

“And?  Don’t you have your own bedroom?”

“He doesn’t know how to knock!  Totally defeats the purpose of productive solitude.”

"just tell him you’re busy.”

A red tinge begins to creep onto Soul’s cheeks.  “You uh…. do know that it’s a boy’s dorm, right??  ‘Busy’ could mean… a lot of things.”

Maka lets out an exhauspirated sigh.  If she comes over to his place, security will be all over her until she leaves.  That in itself already feels a bit disturbing.  And in all truth, she doesn’t want to be surrounded by that many men.  Just Soul is quite enough.  Just Soul.  “Alright, alright,” she caves.  He does have some valid points, and she’s most comfortable at home anyway.  “You got a ride?”

 “Yup.” It's nice to know since the Nevada sun would make the walk a bit blistering.  Temperatures have risen lately and the heat isn’t something to be played with, especially with her pasty skin.  Soul’s lucky he’s so tan. 

Maka follows Soul to his ride, and it’s not what she expects at all.  Soul pats his hand on a monstrously orange motorcycle.  It’s a shade she’s never seen before, similar to the orange hues that fill the sky in the evening, but a bit more muted.  

“Meet Sally!”  He wears a proud smile.  Any happier, and he may as well hug the machine.  

“Sally?  Really?”

“What, you don’t name your cars?”   _Although this isn’t a car._  “She’s been with me for five years now.”  He pats the black leather seat with pride and locates two helmets.

Hesitant, Maka takes one step towards the bike.  “And you do have a licence for it, right?” 

“Of course.  Now hop on, let’s get out of here so we can draw.”

Now that she’s right beside it, Maka inspects it carefully. It _looks_ like it’s been taken care of so she deems it okay this one time.  If he fucks up even one time, she’s never getting on it again.  

It’s not long before they arrive.  The drive is fairly short since her apartment is only a few streets away.  She keeps her arms wrapped around his waist in fear that the grips on each side may not hold her still enough.  It’s strange feeling the rumble under her body compared to the smooth, quiet hum of a car. She can’t deny the wind feeling good though.

Soul parks, and Maka guides Soul inside, up two flights of stairs, and down a small hallway, where she pauses to retrieve her keys.  She unlocks and opens the door, gesturing for Soul to follow her inside.  Normally, she wouldn’t invite company so willingly.  Even her dad is lucky if the rare invitation presents itself  “So, this is home. Sorry, it’s a little small, but it works for one person well enough.”

“You live alone?”

“Yup.  Always have since I moved out of that hell—“  She hates how he inexplicably gives her verbal diarrhea.  These are things he doesn’t need to know!  “Well, you get my gist.  Gotta learn to be independent eventually.” 

Soul glances around with a small nod.  Thankfully, he’s not prodding any further into her business.  “Nice place.”

Maka’s quiet studio stays neat, especially since she’s usually away doing work study or researching new books to read in the library.  In the right front corner of the room by the door is a small kitchen area, split from the rest by a single, but nice stand alone serving bar.  Across from it on the left is a living area not much larger.  It consists of an old, worn couch fit for only two and a glass-top table furnished with books and coasters (although they tend to only serve as a decoration).  Looking to the back of the studio reveals a twin sized bed and a small table beside it.  The only door barring off any space belongs to the bathroom across from it, which is also very tiny in itself.  The coziest spot, though, is a desk positioned right in front of a large, multi-tiled window pieced together in perfect 12x12 squares that offer an oriental appeal.   

Both students lay their backpacks down gently, and Soul takes his shoes off, leaving them in the tiny entryway before stepping into the room itself.  “So uh… where’s the bathroom?” 

Maka wonders how his manners contrast so wildly with his words.  “Oh, yeah!  The door over there,” she answers, pointing to the back right.

As Soul makes his way to the restroom and shuts the door behind him, Maka steps around the quaint bar and opens a cabinet above the stove.  She pulls out a can of cat food and as soon as the top is popped off, a black ball of fur is instantly at her feet.  “How’s my beautiful kitty today?”

_Meow…_

Her motherly voice comes out now, higher pitched and more affectionate than usual.  “Hold on, baby, I have to dish it out.”  Maka scoops the icky brown turkey bits into a special ceramic bowl, a fragile piece with Japanese kanji written on the outside of the rim.

Soul reappears behind her.  “Thanks.”

She sends a warm smile his way after setting the dish down.  “I hope you don’t mind cats. Although she’s kind of skittish, so you won’t have to worry too much about…”  Before Maka can finish her sentence, the cat walks carefully up to Soul, who’s standing still so the feline can sniff him for a moment.  After a few seconds, she starts rubbing against, around, and in between his legs as if she’s known him all his life.

“She’s cute,” he finally comments.  Soul kneels down and starts to pet Blair gently, starting from her head and trailing along her back with a light scratch.  “What’s her name?”

Maka stands flabbergasted, speechless in the moment of shock.  How is Blair not running from him?

“Unless…. She has no name yet?”  Soul crooks his head to the side as a pregnant pause dwells in the air.  The awkward sensation grows as Maka realizes too long later that she’s yet to respond.

“Oh, uh… Blair,” Maka finally answers with a content smile on her face.  The smile halters halfway as she notes Blair’s contentment. “Although…” she continues as she looks down at the cat that’s fawning against Soul’s hand as he strokes Blair’s dark fur.  “It’s really quite strange.”

Soul doesn’t pause to look up.  He’s enjoying this petting session just as much as Blair.  “Strange, how?”

“She’s not running away.  Blair has never liked anyone else, especially like this.”

Soul scratches softly behind the Blair’s ears and she’s eating up the love as if its the air they breath. The feline leans even further into his hand.  Now her scent will be all over him.  She’s claimed him, even though she doesn’t know him.  “Heh, is that so?”

“Do you own any animals?”  Because maybe that’s what she smells.

“Nope!  Dorm doesn’t allow it.”

Blair’s taste in guests doesn’t make any sense.  The feline is so calm, not afraid of Soul’s touch at all, and yet she’s never met him before!.  “Oh…”  Needless to say, that doesn’t erase the fact that they have a project to work on, so Maka shakes it off.

“Hmmm, strange cat.”  When Soul stops rubbing her chin and stands up, Blair’s fascination shifts back to the food bowl again.

“Have a seat wherever you want.  Sorry there’s not much space.” 

“Eh, it’s fine.  I like drawing on the floor anyway.”

“If you say so.”  Maka isn’t sure whether he’s telling the truth or trying to make her feel better.  She’s not about to argue; there’s a project due and they’re already a week behind.  “I’ll start on this and hand it to you when I’m finished.”

“K.”

A yawn escapes Soul as he sits on the floor with legs crossed and glances at his phone a bit too briefly.  He must be checking the time.  "Don’t worry, I’m working on it as fast as I can.  Then it’s all yours,”  Maka assures.  

"Whatcha’ got to eat?”

She pauses for a moment, spinning around and holding her pencil mid-air while silently taking inventory.  “Ummm…There’s some ramen in the kitchen cabinet.  Maybe some crackers and dip.”  His disapproval is quite apparent in the crinkle of his nose and frown upon his lips.  “What, ramen noodles not good enough?”

“No, no… Just wanted something hot.”   _Sure, because ramen noodles isn’t considered hot food_ …  Not that this project requires her to share her food anyway.  He’s here to draw, and if he wants to starve, he can.

The persistent growl emitting from his stomach gets louder.  He abruptly stands without warning and heads to the door, keys in hand.  “Be right back.  Getting food.”

“Oh, okay,” she says.  “Could you stop by Subway and get—“  The girl halts her sentence. The door clicks closed and her art partner is already gone.  That son of a… he didn’t even bother to ask what she wanted?  And here she is, drawing so diligently so there’s enough time for him to contribute, too!

Maka tries to stay focused for the next thirty minutes, but her so-called partner’s mission to retrieve food that she won’t get to enjoy too has her mind flustered.  Now she’s both hungry and irritated!  That prick!  It’s all his fault.  Rising abruptly from her chair and laying the pencil down, she decides she may as well cook something.  He’s not about to eat in front of her if she can help it!  She’ll dress up ramen noodles better than any fast food he can find!  Determined to out-do Soul’s likely poor choice of food, she makes her way into the tiny corner her landlord calls a kitchen.  Opening cabinets and drawers reveals a very slim selection of items that could _possibly_ go with ramen: peanut butter, jelly, pickles, olives, ketchup, a few cans of soup.  She’s really going to have to experiment with this.  Just as she opens the noodle pack, there’s a tiny knock on her door.  She knows it’s Soul- no one else has an open invitation at this moment.  Maka sets the noodle package down and opens the door for him.

In his arms, he’s carrying more than she expects: four grocery bags, three filled to the brim with frozen and packaged ingredients and the fourth with two rather nice- and large- cooking pans sticking halfway out.  While Maka would love to be pleasantly surprised, she never actually offered to cook.  She’s not even experienced enough in the culinary arts to use these supplies properly, nor efficiently!  

“Please tell me you’re the one who’s cooking all that,” she says. “I’ll gladly remind you that I’m not your---”

“Yup,” he quickly interrupts, setting said bags on the small, dark granite counter and separating the materials in an oddly particular fashion.  All the cold, uncooked items are apart from seasonings, which are also apart from a stash of canned beverages.  Soul grabs one of the chilled cans and tosses it Maka’s way.

Maka catches it easily, turning the label to find out that it’s one of her favorites, root beer.  “O-oh... Thanks.”  Come to think of it, Maka can’t remember the last time she did any major grocery shopping.  It always seems to cost more than her bank account can spare.

“Hope you like pork dumplings.”

"Y-yeah… I-I actually love them.”  Although she worries about whether it’ll turn out _good_.  Either way, it has to beat what she was about to eat.  She’s actually kind of tired of ramen, anyway. She’s tempted to see if he needs help, but doesn’t even know where to begin.  

Before she gets a chance to ask, though, Soul suggests, “go on and finish that picture.  It’ll be done by the time it’s ready for my part.

“Y-yeah… sure…” her hesitant voice lets out.  “Just don’t burn my kitchen down, okay? I don’t exactly have insurance on this place.”

 “Pffftt. Whatever, pigtails.  Now, go!  I got this.”  Soul shoos her off with the flick of a hand and turns back to the uncooked food again.  Just before he walks off, he pauses for a moment, seemingly hesitant with something on his mind.  “Oh, uhhh… mind if I connect to your speaker in the meantime?”

Oh, _that_ speaker, the one her dad bought her a year ago.  Whatever inspired her father to buy it, she’s not sure.  He should know very well that a gift card to the nearest book store would have been more beneficial.  Her earplugs are a lot more neighbor-friendly.  Honestly, it’s just been sitting around collecting dust.  What kind of music he’s going to play, she’s not sure.  Although she is interested to know what kind of sound output it has, considering the pretty price tag it came with.  Curiosity bites her hard enough to cave in.  “Yeah, sure.  Just no complaints from the neighbors, please?”

Soul grins, a very wide, mischievous grin.  “Thanks,” he replies. She can hear the whisper of an excited “yes” as he bolts to the kitchen corner.   _Great_ , she’s probably going to get a noise complaint soon!  He’s listening to piano though, and it sounds _damned good._ Why had she neglected it for so long?  Now Maka kind of wishes she could put on her own tunes, like Bassnectar and Deadmau5.  Even Skrillix would sound amazing on it.  The bass and collaboration of oddities would produce such a sweet sound, but he’s the chef, so instrumental it is.  Maka doesn’t mind, though. 

Now that she’s in full concentration mode again, time passes fairly quickly.  She already has a full sheet of action sketched out, ready to have the lines erased and solidified as necessary.  As she lifts her pencil to look over the piece as a whole, her ears catch a sound she hadn’t expected: Jazz.  Piano, saxophone, and violin with a blend of mild drums.  Where is that Kanye West album that’s so popular on campus? The music he has on is actually quite relaxing.  It’s the most focused Maka’s been in a long time.  As she draws, the food begins to smell unusually good compared to her original expectations.  Maybe the groceries her partner bought won’t be such a waste.  He seems to be having fun, too.  He’s keyboarding the counter as if it were a real piano.

Just as she finishes her body panels, she turns around, and he’s rolling up to her with a tray of fresh, hot pork dumplings.  Blair follows behind him like a lost puppy.  Since when did Blair choose to stay with him instead?  It has to be the food!  Maka can’t blame the cat, though.  She can see the steam, _feel the steam,_ rising as the plate is set on the desk beside her.  Soul seems slightly panicked though as he reaches for the plate again.  “Oh, uh… is it okay to set it here?  I can move it if necessary. I mean I didn’t really see a… dining table or anything.”

Maka waves her hand in assurance.  “It’s fine here!  I actually eat at my desk all the time.”  Because honestly, a big table might take up more space than she’s willing to give up in this comfort zone she’s established.

He’s anticipating her first bite.  A familiar, anxious look is in his eyes and he stands awkwardly still, waiting for her to pick up a dumpling. She doesn’t hesitate.  Her stomach is rumbling and her concentration is shot.  Popping a dumpling into her mouth, she takes the time to savor a surprisingly satisfying taste.  It’s both soft and crisp,  just the way dumplings should be.  There’s flavor to both the flour wrap and filling.  And it’s not greasy either!  “This is… really good,” Maka finally says.

He’s wearing a cheesy smile that screams pride.  “Yeah, just uhhh… thought you might want something nice to eat.”

“And… you _are_ going to be doing this every night that you’re here, right?”  Because there’s a slew of supplies left that she doesn’t know how to prepare right.  Not that he has to accept it, because in all honesty, she’d probably say no if she were in his shoes.  All seriousness aside, Maka’s pre-planning an argumentative joke to any potential response coming her way.

Soul shrugs nonchalauntly, though.  “Sure.” Definitely not what was anticipated.  Maka’s not sure what to say.  Soul’s really willing to cook every night?  Not that she’d turn it down.  This is more than delicious.  It’s a treat she’s missed ever since her mother moved out.  “Well, maybe not _dumplings_ every night,” Soul continues.  “Pretty sure we’d get tired of them eventually.”

“Heh, right.”  She reaches to grab another.  “Better eat some now!  You snooze, you lose!”


	4. Silver Screens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul and Maka catch a side of their friends they've never seen before.

Somehow Blake has roped Soul and Maka into going to the movie theatre.  Soul’s reluctance to ask for Maka’s presence there had her questioning the purpose, but he’d begged, said he didn’t want to be a third wheel.  She couldn’t blame him, and quite honestly, they’ve been spending a lot of time working on schoolwork together.  A break to go on an actual outing sounded very nice.  It was especially easy to accept when she found out Blake’s girlfriend was one of her good friends.  Strange how small Death City is. 

 

Normally, Maka remains fairly quiet, never wanting to bother anyone, but they’ve somehow invested the opportunity to study the production and design quality instead.  “See her outfit?  It’s cute, functional, AND practical,” she suggests, noting how each piece of fabric compliments the other.

 

Soul seems unfazed by it, though.  “Eh, I mean, yeah it’s cute, but it’s not _memorable_.  Take for example: The Fifth Element, Leeloo’s strappy get up in the beginning.  THAT’S the kind of stuff people actually remember long term.”

 

Maka offers an incredulous look.  Those straps barely covered anything on Leeloo’s body!   She wouldn’t be caught dead rocking a few bandages as an outfit.   

 

Still, Soul argues his point further.  “What?  You can’t deny that it was artistic!”

 

“And completely naked!  You know, Soul, sometimes less is more.”  Has he no sense of practicality?

 

“Mmm.  If you say so…”

 

Maka sort of wishes Soul would choke on his own spit right now.  “What’s so wrong with average??  Besides, those curves you call ‘anatomy’ are by far unrealistic _and_ unhealthy.”  She points back at the big screen.  “This looks way better than sci-fi Barbie on paper.”

 

Soul pouts, his bottom lip purposely sticking out.   _And it’s kind of cute, too…_ She almost catches her cheeks warming up as she realizes the admiration that’s slowly dripping into her heart and quickly glances back at the big screen.  Her project partner can be a jerk, probably doesn’t know what a filter is when it comes to his mouth, but he’s entertaining to debate with.  The partnership definitely could have been worse.

 

“I put a lot of thought into that, thank you very much, and I’m keeping it anyway.  You’re never going to find it!”

 

Maka’s eyes narrow as she shoots another side glance back at her ever-so-proud accomplice.  “Uh huh, just watch me. It’ll come up missing one day.”  She tries looking back at the front screen, but in all honesty, she can’t concentrate at all.  In the row right before them, Blake and Tsubaki are _not_ watching the movie.

 

“My Goddess!  You are so beautiful!” Blake shouts out, no control on the volume of his voice.

Tsubaki giggles softly, leaning in closer to her new-found lover as she flutters her eyes so admiringly.  “No, you, my warrior, are so handsome.”   The young woman’s voice is so soft and yet… seductive?  _Maka’s sweet, innocent Tsubaki_?

 

“So um…. Sorry about Blake’s… volume.  He doesn’t know when to shut up,” Soul interjects, leaning closer to Maka .  “We probably should have stayed home.”

 

“Yeaaaaahhhhhh,” Maka drags out.  She leans over, reaching into the popcorn bucket resting on Soul’s lap.  Tearing her eyes away from the screen for a moment, she spots the handful she wants.  Most of the kernels are overly buttered, not how she typically dresses it.  She’s wondered if it was really a good idea to share one order if he’d so quietly planned to douse it.

 

“Is your friend always like this?”

 

Soul’s question catches Maka off guard.  Maka firmly believes, and knows, that Tsubaki usually keeps personal matters…. well, personal.  It’s another sound that brings her head a sharp turn down at them, though.

 

Right before their eyes, the newly paired couple’s lips are locking, never parting for a breath.  Tsubaki breaks off for a split second, still close enough that their tongues could still touch.  “Oh Blake” she mutters, two hot breaths crossing.

 

“Blackstar, baby, call me _Blackstar_!”  The nickname couldn’t be said any more sensually.

 

“Oh, Blackstar!  Yes!  You’re my sexy warrior!”  Suddenly, Tsubaki’s hand reaches around the back of Blake’s head, fingers laced deep in blue locks, and they’re forcefully pulled back together.  Not that Blake’s fighting it.  Instead, he’s groaning along with every turn their heads make, left, right, left, right...  Even the movie can’t mask the passion happening before Soul and Maka’s eyes.

 

Maka’s hands fly up to halfway cover her face, and her jaw drops, but somehow, the love making session still remains in sight through netted fingers.  “I-I swear she’s not!  Sorry about this!”  That infamous red glow finds its way back on her cheeks.  Thank goodness it’s dark in this room, or she might have to excuse herself to the ladies’ room.

 

Soul narrows his gaze, reaching over the seat before him to carefully tap his friend’s shoulder.  It’s difficult to find an opening between the couple’s grazes, hands both gently – and roughly- travelling up and down their bare shoulders and arms.  “Uh, Blake, do you mind taking that somewhere else?”

 

“Ah, sorry, dude.  Empty theatre, hot girlfriend.”  Now they’re just getting sloppy with it, like a starving man salivating over a hamburger.

 

“It’s not empty, though!”  Soul firmly clears his throat, pointing back to himself and Maka.

Blake, no, Blackstar, doesn’t even take a moment to look back – or breath for that matter.   “Empty enough,” he responds, quickly capturing Tsubaki’s lips with his again.  They’re inseparable.

 

Soul mutters incoherently under a quiet breath before shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth.  It’s an attempt to chew loud enough in hope of annoying his friend in return.  The passive aggressive act doesn’t overcome the sound of passionate moans, though.

 

Alternatively, Maka taps her foot nervously on the concrete floor below as she locks her eyes back to the movie screen in an attempt to ignore the sloppy romancing.  She keeps her gaze forward as she reaches a hand back into the popcorn bucket.  Clasping her fingers to grab another handful, buttered or not- because at this point it doesn’t matter anymore- it’s not salty food she finds.  Instead, her fingers loosely lace into Soul’s.

 

She wants to pull back instantly, but shock takes over as she slowly turns her head to look Soul’s way.  A stifled and nerdy, but nervous laughter escapes as if she’s some fourteen year old getting her first kiss.

 

Soul sits wordless, though, wearing a frozen and emotionless expression she can’t read.  He’s still as a mannequin, but she can feel his rising temperature through her own skin.

 

“S-sorry… I was just….”  Even worse, when she pulls her hand out of his, it goes so slow, they can both feel the soft and gentle rub of each other’s warm skin.  He apparently takes care of himself quite well as she notes how soft his skin is.  Still, no matter how much she tells herself to let go already, her body refuses to react any faster, and the closer their hands reach to a release, the redder she glows.

 

Finally their fingers unlock, and Soul speaks again, no longer inanimate.  “Y-yeah… here…”  Soul gives her the entire tub of popcorn, careful that they don’t touch hands again in the process.  His face pales as he slowly turns back forward to face the movie once more.

 

“You know, there are other movies playing.”

 

“Mm?”

 

“We could just see what else is playing.”

 

“And pay for another ticket??”

 

“Nooooooooot necessarily.”

 

“Are you saying we should-”

 

“Movie hop?   _Hell, yeah_.  This one is boring.  Unless you wanna to keep watching the love birds make out.”

 

Both Maka and Soul stand up very quickly.  They exit the theatre before Blake and Tsubaki can even sense their absence.  Even their steps are masked by the sound of saliva exchanging.

 

Soul bites his lip nervously as they pause by the door to the next screening room.  “Isn’t this illegal?”  His hands are too busy fiddling to open the door.

 

Maka clearly ignores his question as she answers it with another.  She’s done this several times before and nobody’s ever stopped her to check the tickets.  “Oooh, I wonder which one is playing here?”  She welcomes her self inside anyway, curious to find out which mystery movie they’re about to watch.  It’s exciting, just a small way she can break the rules and get by with it. 

 

Soul follows shortly behind her, peering just around her shoulder.  “Oh, look.  Just your type, Maka.  ‘ _Book Club_ ’.”

 

“Please!  Just because I read them doesn’t mean I want to watch a movie about other people reading them.  Romance is romance is romance.”

 

“Wait, so we’re not gonna-”

 

“Nope!  Let’s see what’s next.”  She takes Soul’s wrist in hand and drags him out and towards the room on the other side.  His eyes are still wandering everywhere.  It’s strange how he thinks there’s going to be someone watching.  

 

By the end of the night, they’ve already watched bits and pieces of at least four movies.  Among Book Club, A Quiet Place, and Deadpool 2, neither artist can decipher a complete plot.  All together, it could be mashed together into a fanfiction collaboration.  “Watch me, I’ll make it happen!” Maka says to the suggestion.  

 

Atlast they find themselves sitting in one final movie, one they hope to give inspiration to their comic: Solo: A Star Wars Story.   It’s too late in the movie to really know what’s going on, but there is a good bit happening. It sparks ideas in Maka’s head: poses, actions, settings she hasn’t taken into consideration.  This is one they both pay attention to.  It’s not Maka’s typical preference, but she can’t deny the magnitude of Star Wars.  Soul’s delight is becoming infectious. 

 

Soul’s phone lights up, though.  Sighing reluctantly, he flashes the screen for Maka to read.

 

_::Bro, where are you??::_

 

He turns the screen brightness down and exchanges a few texts before turning to Maka with a frown.  “Shit, they’re ready now.”  Soul types again and Blake’s text pops up in return.  “They’re waiting by the door.”  Both Maka and Soul debate going home on their own, but Tsubaki is their ride, so there’s no other choice.  The luxury of finishing the one title they actually _wanted_ to see disappears from their grasp.  

 

“Soooo… that was interesting,” Soul starts as they leave the theatre.  It’s already dark and the front entrance is closed.  Now they have a longer walk back to the car.  He glances back and forth, left and right, as they stick by each other.  Somebody has to watch the surroundings, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be Blake, who’s too busy touching his girlfriend.  

 

“Oh yeah!  Where did you guys go, anyway??  You missed _so much_.” Blake spouts out as they walk.  He snags a hand around one of the light poles that light the parking lot just enough and spins in glee around it, landing right at Tsubaki’s side.  

 

“Yeah” Soul says, lowering his tone before his infatuated friend can catch the hesitation.  “Sure, we missed all that mushy shit you pulled.”

 

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you!”  

 

Soul can only look at Blake in confusion, an eyebrow half-risen.  “You said nohing about a kissing session… or did that turn into sex, too?”

 

“Ahem!  ‘ _Double date_ ’?  What couple doesn’t make out in the theatre during a date?”

 

Maka nearly falters in her step, half-tripping over an invisible log.  Catching herself before anyone sees it, though, she retorts, “If you haven’t noticed, yet, we’re just project partners, not lovers?!”

 

“Coulda’ fooled me!  You guys are practically always together.”  Blake locks an elbow around Tsubaki’s as he lets out a loud laugh  and trudges a head of them.

 

“Will you shush already?  You don’t know who else is out here.  And.. and _we’re not a couple_!”  Soul holds his hand over his eyes and he shakes his head in disbelief.

 

“You shy now?  Aww, you guys can come on out of your closet now.”

 

They’ve finally arrived at Tsubaki’s car and pile in and an awkward silence fills the air.  Tsubaki wears that sweet smile, that precious innocent smile that tricked Maka tonight.  “Would anyone like something to eat now?”

 

It’s hard to turn down the thoughtful offer, but Maka is scarred enough from the little love show in the theatre.  For all Maka knows, they might even start feeding each other.  “Ah… thanks, but not tonight.  I’m beat.  Maybe next time though _.”  If there will even be a next time…_   


	5. The Bare Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul gives Maka a lesson in male antomy

Once again, the not-so-dynamic duo is at Maka’s little studio, neither speaking as concentration fills the air.  Art is all they know right now.  Both have their own way of doing things, but it's going somehow, even if the final product isn’t quite as uniform as it should be.

 At the small desk fit for one is Maka, scratching light and sketchy lines of what will essentially become their characters, then erasing to adjust the waists, hips, and legs to how they should be (or how she feels they should be).  It almost sounds like a child with coloring pencils, only in her case, graphite shapes will form out in the end.

Alternatively, Soul sits crouched on the floor and leans forward so low that his face is inches away from the piece she’s just handed him.  He makes slow, calculated, and solid lines, ruler in one hand and fine-line mechanical pencil in the other. Infamously perched by his side is Blair, curled tightly in a calm sleep. Occasionally, the feline wakes to glance back up at him, batting affectionate eyes. If he goes too long without giving her at least one stroke down her back, she nudges his hand. 

They continue in silence a bit, pausing occasionally to lean back and analyze what they’ve each drawn out so far.  Maka giggles in satisfaction and kneels back down to add some more touches.

Soul isn’t feeling the same confident vibe, though.  A grumble escapes his breath as he sits up, analyzing the panels Make gave him.  With a sigh, he picks up the sheet, gives Blair one more good scratch behind her ears (for soothing measures of his absence), and makes his way to where Maka’s steadily drawing.  Just before she lays her pencil back down for another panel, he slams his hand down on the desktop from behind her.

 The desk gives a surprising bump and she jumps just a bit as she drops her pencil.  Maka leans back, making space between the two, and cranks her head up to lock agitated eyes with him.  “ _Excuse me??_  I was _drawing_ , Soul.  You don’t see me stomping on the floor while you’re laying down lines!”

His eyes are steel, though, red orbs unfazed by her accusing and incredulous tone.  “I can’t deal with this girly shit on my character anymore.” Soul’s voice is more serious than it’s ever been.

“Is that so?  Well, _Mr. Evans_ …”   She’s figured out during classroom sittings that he can’t stand that name, especially spoken so formally.  Everytime Professor Stein uses it, a crease pops up between his brows and he’s reluctant to reply—the same one creeping onto his features now.  He quickly fixes it before Maka spins around in her chair to face him. 

By the look of her frustrated expression, his words are well heard and noted.  “If you’re so _adamant_ on being drawn a certain way, then I suppose _you’ll_ be the one to show me how to do it, huh?”  

Her retaliation doesn’t move him, though.  He remains rock solid in his resolution as he answers sternly to her sarcasm.  “Yes, I will.” 

Soul knows good and well that Maka can- and will- argue.  Before she gets a chance to retaliate, his hands are instantly at the bottom seam of his t-shirt, crossed over and grasping a handful of cotton in each.  He immediately begins lifting the shirt up his chest without permission.  It’s his character on that page, and he needs it to look right!   

Maka gasps sharply and quickly spins back around. Only now, she’s hunched over, hands covering her eyes and what little they can hide. Her face glows underneath her palms.

“S-Soul!  What do you think you’re….” Maka muffles into her palms.  The sound of cloth hitting the floor beside her brings two of her fingers to a small split in curiosity.  She glimpses for a brief second through the visible crack only to find his shirt is completely off and thrown to the side.  “You better put your shirt back on, Evans!!”

“Ummm, no?  I’m lending you my body.  Take it or leave it.” 

Maka lets out a muffled scream.  “I-I’m not interested in you that way!”

“I’m not asking you to have sex with me,” he defends.  “Geez, it’s not like we’re even dating anyway.”  Blair stirs awake for a moment, pausing to watch their debate. Soul follows with a heavy sigh.  “I just, I figured that maybe…” Hesitation creeps into Soul’s wavering thought. Was this really the right choice?  It feels forceful, pushy, but it’s nothing compared to what his brother would say.  The words echo repeatedly: “ _Since when did you start wearing make up?_ ”  He feels a sharp tooth digging into his bottom lip already.  Exposing himself is a worthy price to pay. 

“Please, use my body.” _Because if she leaves this offer behind, he’s going to keep fixing that feminine crap on his muse behind her back_.  She’s still not looking, though, not even a tiny little glance.  Instead, Maka’s hiding away, crouched in her safe spot on her fancy spinning chair.  He mentally slaps himself in the face.  “...As a reference!” Soul stammers.  This entire ordeal isn’t turning out at all like he hoped.

“Pencil and paper work just fine, thank you!”   Maka retorts, still refusing to spin around.

“C’mon, you gotta learn somehow!  What better way than looking at an _actual guy_?”  

At last she turns to face him again and removes her hands.  “Have you lost your mind?  You’re stripping!  In my house!  _Right in front of me_!”  

“Your _studio_ ,” Soul quickly corrects.

Maka grumbles audibly.  “Yes, in my _studio_ , Soul!  If you think I’m about to draw you naked…”

 Soul can’t back down now that he finally has her attention.  “No, not naked.  I’m not gonna show it all, just what you need to know.”

 She sighs in disbelief at the proposal.  “If I say yes, will you stop asking and never do it again?”

“Absolutely.  I’ll leave your pictures _completely_ alone!”

She pauses to think for a moment, torn between the two options: let him display himself or let him continue changing her lines.  “Fine, then.  But you better hold up your promise!  No changing anything, even if you don’t like it!”

It’s his desperate hope that she actually retains what she sees.  If she doesn’t, he’s going to have to face the fact that his character is doomed to femininity.  Soul unbuckles his belt and slides it off in one clean motion.  He lets his blue jeans fall to the floor, now revealing a pair of tight boxers covered in Death City’s classic university symbol, a simple yet symmetrical white skull.

The sight of him in his boxers and socks intensifies the heat taking overtaking her face; he can practically feel it from where he stands. At this rate, she may never pick up her pencil.  “Okay, okay. I get it,” Maka hastily starts, hoping the answer will satisfy him.  “You can put it all back on, now!”  _Although she’s hardly looked at all_. Her gaze tracks an invisible path to something behind him instead.  The trick is all too familiar; it’s one he uses on their teachers all the time.  If Maka thinks she’s fooling him, she’s quite mistaken.  She squints her eyes just enough so he’s in sight, but doesn’t catch what he’d intended her to see.

 “No, seriously, Maka. I want you to look at me.”

 She opens her eyes just enough so his figure is vaguely visible, but closes them immediately once more.  “Yeah, I did.  You’re tan, tall, and almost naked.” 

 _This girl is impossible._  He’s going to have to speak on her level now.  “That isn’t enough. You need to _study_ me.”

Maka’s cheeks are still lit, but her shoulders relax a little more.  She may be a stubborn mule, but she’s also smart. “Fiiiiiiine.  Just promise you’re not taking off your underwear, too?”

“Pfft, wouldn’t dream of it.  You’re not _that_ lucky.”  She glares his way for a moment, stuck in a silent debate.  

“And I wasn’t exactly asking for it either.  WHAT am I supposed to gain from you standing naked in front of me?”

“ _NOT_ naked!  And I want you to observe my figure.”

Her face still glows in a pregnant pause between the two.  It’s a seemingly difficult task to pull her eyes off his face and onto his body.  Her furrowing brows are tell-tale signs of the reluctance she’s quietly holding back as she soaks in the shape of his form before her.  

He grits a little in return.  Here he is, standing half naked, narrowed down to boxers and socks.  His eyes flutter for a split second in a last minute realization that now she’s seen his scar.  The ugly, diagonal mark that splits his chest in half from shoulder to hip is something he hoped would fade away, but fate had other plans, and Maka’s included in them now.  He watches her eyes travel down the long, hideous mark. _Quick, before she asks about it_.  “Men’s anatomy is different from women’s, and I’m not talking about in the obvious ways.”  He outlines his waist and hips with his hands as he describes generally straighter bone structures.  

She’s still flushed red, but she’s paying attention, teetering between curiosity and timorousness.  

Maybe this isn’t be as bad as he thought, so Soul continues.  “I don’t have the same kind of waist-to-hip structure you do, because my body wasn’t built for the same reasons as yours is.  It’s more straight, practical, with a _bare_ trim difference that’s there just enough to differentiate the muscles, not the same smooth, flowing curves you’d draw on a woman.”  Now he runs two thumbs against his jaw line.  “Our faces are slightly different, too.  Women, generally speaking, have softer curves going up and sharper, rounded chins that narrow the face a little more.”  Soul props a flat palm where his jawline meets his ear.  “Mine is not completely squared off.  It still has some angle and a hint of prominence, but it’s not as gentle as, say, yours.”

It’s awkward standing there so exposed.  He should be drawing for the comic, but sacrifices have to be made.  He wants to fiddle his thumbs or shift his weight back and forth, but she’s drawing, actually paying attention and, for the first time since their assignment, drawing _him_.  One major move, and it might throw off her measurements.

 

Maka’s sketching ever-so-lightly on a spare sheet of printer paper, glancing up and down between her drawing and partner.  His semi-naked state may actually pay off. The lesson isn’t over yet, though.  There’s still one more issue that’s really feminizing him: the _eyes_.  She’s still putting lashes in volumes that only mascara can achieve, and it’s going to make him look like a cross-dresser.  

She doesn’t seem to think so, though.  Setting her pencil down and admiring her male frame with a smile, she fails to notice Soul stepping behind her.  “Nice!  Thanks for the he--” she begins, but is cut off instantly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa now, we’re not done yet.”  He kneels down and points to the face on the drawing she’s just so fondly created.  

“W-What?  But the jaw is exactly how you said, and the hips, and the waist and the-.”

“Yes, and it looks great... _but I’m still wearing makeup_.”

“No you’re not!  Those are natural lines created by-”

“Mascara, Maka.  Mascara.  Have you ever seen a normal guy with natural lashes that long, that lucious?  It’s unnatural, even for women.”  Maka’s pouting and holds a defiant, forward stare.  She’s so close to drawing him with masculinity, so he stops her before she can speak.  Soul leans in closer, barely touching the tip of the short, white strands over his eyes. Her breath is staggered, but he must continue before she thinks to push him away.  “My eyelashes aren’t that emphasized.  Hell, they aren’t really even noticeable.”  Damn his unnaturally-natural hair color.  

Maka puffs and glares the other way.  It doesn’t go unheard, though.  Soul smiles wryly as he watches her erase some of the lashlines on her drawing.  She leaves just enough line there to indicate they’re still somewhat there.  “Anything else?” Maka asks with one last huff.  

“Nope, you’re good now.   _Although_ , I will say, take this picture you just did, and compare it to the ones you drew before.”

She looks back at it.  It’s definitely... different.  In fact, it looks a lot better.  She admires the work for a few moments, a satisfied smile on her face.  From the happy humming she’s doing, the fact that an almost-naked boy is in her studio seems to have vanished from her thoughts. The girl spins back around to thank him.  “I uh,”  By that point, Soul is already dressed again.  He’s caused enough distress and it’s time to get back to work.  “Th-Thanks, Soul.”  Her smile is genuine.  The gleam in her eyes are tell-tale signs that despite her initial embarrassment, she’s actually very happy.  For this, he is too.  It’s a fleeting thought, and he’s not sure why, but he wonders if she’s the only person he would do that for.

“Sure,” he replies in a cool tone, kneeling back down to his usual spot on the floor.  Blair rubs against his leg and curls down by his side again.  He lightly scratches the top of her head before picking up his pencil.  His job is done, and he can now carry on with his art contently.


	6. Hello Neighbor

The project date nears closer and closer and Soul realizes that he’s been at her little studio almost every day lately.  He’s also cooked every time. Not that it’s a problem. It gives her time to draw the next page of panels and provides them with good food - at least until their project is finished.  Soul can’t say for sure what she will do when he’s no longer needed there.  In the meanwhile, he makes haste back to her place- she’s missing a few ingredients for their meal tonight.  A trip to the store isn’t a hassle, though; it is essential if her craving is to be satisfied. She wants shrimp and tofu udon, so that’s what she’ll get.  It’s nothing he can’t handle. When he arrives by her doorway, though, there’s something odd in the air…

“ _ Just let yourself back in, I’ll be busy drawing _ ,” she’d told him before he left.  It doesn’t feel right, though, the thought of walking in as if it’s his home, too.  (Though it may as well be.) But that’s not what alerts him.  It’s...the   _ music. _  Very loud music.  Soul attempts to knock on the door, but it avails no answer as he stands for a good five minutes, grocery bags still in hand.  Perhaps a text message will work better. He uses his free hand to pull out his phone and thumbs a quick message her way. 

::Hey, at the door.::

A few minutes later, his phone still doesn’t pop up with a reply.  In the time he’s waited, he has witnessed others leaving their apartments.  Watching their eyes turn his way makes him slightly nervous. Are they looking at  _ him  _ or are they listening to the beats happening on the other side of the door?  Two blondes eye him particularly long, wide smiles creeping on their faces and stifled giggles bubbling up.  He can tell they’re trying to silence themselves. To be honest, he’s not even particularly sure he wants to hear the outburst they release when they turn out of sight.  

They are finally disappear around a corner, though, so he takes out his phone again and opens a chat server.  By some miracle, Maka’s trusted him with her Discord name. Maybe it was only by the grace of sharing a project.   _ GrigoriWings _ .  One day, he’ll have to ask her what it means.  Still, he has no response. He’ll  _ have  _ to let himself in, or this food will waste away.

When he walks in, she’s not hunched down at her desk, though.  Maka’s dancing… no, she’s  _ jamming _ !  

The song has a high beat and deep bass and it’s in another language!  It’s a good blend between electronic and foreign pop, foreign telepop?  Even as he closes the door behind him, she hasn’t noticed his presence yet.  She sings strange words that match every lyric to the energetic tune. Since when did she decide not to tell him she’s bilingual?  He can’t deny having his own secrets, though. It’s not like he’s planning to play piano for her today. 

Maka’s dancing isn’t the least bit graceful.  It’s choppy and lacks rhythm. It’s more like a mix of various arm motions and jumps.  Be it lame, it’s still quite enjoyable. Maka’s never shown this much energy in her a motions before.  Soul laughs quietly to himself, trying not to disturb her. He wants this to go as long as he can manage.  

Now she’s seriously pulling a Carlton, kneeled down and head ducking to the side and back up with an arm in the air.  She makes a spin as if to do the same move in the opposite direction.  _ Heh, she’s finally been caught _ . As Soul comes into sight, Maka abruptly stops mid dip and pales. “Wh-what are you doing back so early, Soul?!” Maka exclaims, standing up.  She frantically finds her phone and shuts the music completely off. The phone almost drops to the floor in the midst of her nervous fumbling.  She manages to save it, though, and sighs in relief. 

Soul walks to the kitchen bar and sets the bags down.  “It’s been at least forty minutes. What kind of music was that anyway?”

“U-um…”  Maka has a nervous laugh about her.  Whatever she’s thinking, he promises not to make fun of her, though it’s not his cup of tea.  “It’s uh… K-Pop.”

“Whatever floats your boat. Radio’s mine when I start cooking, though.”  Not that this isn’t already understood between the two. Maka will gladly listen to his jazz, even if she doesn’t understand the meanings he’s explained behind each song.

Blair pads away from lapping around Maka and retreats back to Soul, greeting him with a soft meow.  With a heavy sigh, Maka suggests, “May as well take the cat home with you tonight. I swear, it’s like I don’t exist anymore when you’re here.  You  _ did something to her _ , didn’t you?”

“Yes. I totally stash catnip in my shoes while you’re not looking.”  When Maka silently glares, he retorts, “I’m  _ kidding _ , Maka.”  

Soul stores the groceries away properly and follows Maka to the art desk.  Maka’s flipping through pages with a growing look of concern. “Hey, Soul, do you have any extra art paper?”

“Uhhhh..” he starts.  Flipping through his art pads reveals nothing to spare.  “Negative. Pencils are low on lead, too.”

“ _ Shit… _ ”

“The hobby store is still open, and Sally’s at full tank.”  Soul holds up the keys to his motorcycle, giving them a slight jingle.  “Wanna do a quick shopping trip?”

“But you just got back from shopping.”  

Soul still stands, shrugging slightly.  Another shopping trip doesn’t matter. Not going back into town means a delay in their project, a delay he doesn’t-  _ shouldn’t-  _  want.  It’s going so smoothly and it’s the grade that matters.

“Uhhh, Soul?  How are we going to tote our supplies on a motorcycle without it flying away?  The wind might tear the bags apart!”

“There’s a zipped department it’ll fit in.  Right under the seat.”

“Oh, okay.  Let’s roll then.”

The trip to the hobby store isn’t that long.  They arrive and Soul puts his bike into park. Walking in gives a little bit of relief.  Both have spent long hours inside her studio, so stepping inside a shop they like is rather enjoyable.  Trips to the hobby shop always entice excitement. There’s nothing like breaking the ice with a new art pad and wanting to start it off with something amazing.  

Looking down the isles is fun, too.  They’re paused by the gigantic rows of art pads.  “Hey, you think I should stick with a bristol pad?” Maka asks.  “Or should I try the mixed-media?” 

“Eh, Bristol, it’s softer, so the color will be smoother.”  Soul kneels down and rubs the paper of each one between his fingers, feeling for the paper’s thickness.  “That is what you’ve been using, right?” 

“Yeah…”  Maka crouches down, too, and picks up the bristol pad just like the one she’s run out of.  “I guess it’ll keep it looking uniform too. All we need now is lead.” They stand up from their kneeled positions.

“Well, well, well,” an unfamiliar voice starts from behind him.  Soul turns around only to find the same two girls that stared him down in the hallway.  In an internal panic, he questions whether he should attempt to hide his odd features. Red eyes and sharp teeth aren’t that common.  That  _ is _ what they were cackling about before, right?  There are plenty of art pads before them in a range of sizes that can easily hid his appearance.  It’ll be easy -  _ just pretend to browse the shelves, _ he tells himself.

Maka seems to know them, though.  It’s a wave of relief when she starts talking with them.  “Oh, hey! I wasn’t expecting you guys here.” Soul eyes her nervously, wondering if he should give her some space.  The hint seems to work, but not how he expected it to. “Sorry about my manners. Um, this is Liz and Patty, my neighbors,” Maka says, gesturing a hand towards the two girls.  “And this is Soul, my art partner.” _Her art partner_.  The words sting his soul ever so slightly.  If only she knew how much he actually enjoys her company.  Not that it’s his place to dictate that they’ve crossed the line into friendship.  It’s up to her to acknowledge that before he can use that title. 

Liz is the first to greet him.  “Hello, Soul!” The tall blonde elbows Maka’s side.  Maka winces a little, but doesn’t fight it. “So we finally get to meet that boyfriend of yours!”

Maka is taken aback, though.  “B-boyfriend?”

“Uh, yeah?”  Her neighbor points towards Soul.

She immediatly flushes.  “H-he’s not my boyfriend!  Really!”

It’s Patty’s turn to reiterate.  “Suuuuuure. You  _ never  _ have anyone else over.  Not for any projects, not for dinner.  Not even us, and we’re _ right next door _ .”

“Seriously, Patty, Liz,... It’s not what you think it is.  We’re just trying to get supplies to finish our comic!”

Miraculously, Maka’s defense does shift the conversation a bit.  Soul’s not sure he wants to hear more about the limits of their budding… whatever they are right now.  For now, he’s content just knowing that she’s relaxed around him. 

“When are you going to invite us over for dinner?  Whatever you’re cooking, it makes me hungry every time.”  

“Yeah, and we haven’t smelled any burning buildings lately, either.”

Soul can’t resist letting out a laugh.  One look from Maka shuts him up, though. “Oh, quiet, Soul!”  She jabs his arm harder than she ought, and he feels the sting very well. “That’s because Mr. High-Head Macho here has been doing the cooking.  You know I’m not good with that kind of stuff, especially cooking for one - uh, two....”  

“By the way, Soul, your pant leg is  _ covered  _ in fur.”  Liz is as blunt as they come as she points to a thick patch of  _ Blair _ .  He keeps forgetting to lint roll his clothes before going out.  The idea of getting dressed as a pet owner hasn’t settled into his routine yet.  

“Oh, uh… Yeah, you can thank her cat.  She does that all the time.” Soul smiles bashfully and kneels down to slap some of the fur off his pants.  It’s not a huge deal, but he doesn’t want any pet dander getting into Sally’s hardware on the way back.

Liz doesn’t know when to stop, though.  “I’d listen to your cat if I were you, Maka.  He’s cute, too.”

Soul’s frozen, locked into a crouch that was originally meant to brush off his pants.  Now he’s there to hide his red red face that almost matches the hue in his eyes. 

“You guys outta invite us over one day!”  Patty exclaims. No. _ No, no no _ … invite them over??  So they can invade his and Maka’s personal time?  Patty is elated as can be at plans that haven’t been made yet.  Excitement gleams in her eyes; she’s a kid in a candy store, every piece reaching out like it’s hers. Only in this case, it’s dinner, dinner that he only makes for  _ Maka _ .

Her sister isn’t any help, either.  “Maybe even put on some of that awesome music while we’re at it.”

“Oh you can hear it?” Maka asks hesitantly.  She’s always worried about neighbor complaints.

“Yeah, it’s great.  I didn’t know you were into Jazz!”

The comment perks Soul’s ears up.  A common music interest? It’s odd, really.  Most of the campus students are interested in Jay-Z, Ed Sheeran, and Nikki Minaj, so finding someone who can appreciate the art of  _ real  _ instrumental quality is a relief.  

“Oh, well it’s his music,” Maka answers, pointing casually to her partner.  “But yeah, it’s been pretty interesting. It’s helped me focus, to be honest.”

_ This _ is a conversation Soul can get into!  He sets down the art pad that was hiding his face and stands to join into the conversation.  “Yeah, its Miles Davis, a classic!” 

“I know!  His work is  _ legend _ .  I have a special place in my heart for one of his earliest works, Milestones.  I lose myself  _ every time _ .”

“Oh, wow, that one is great!  You have better taste than I took you for, Liz.”

“Oh, please.  He’s not the only one.  There’s Ella Fitzgerald and Billy Holiday; Oh, oh, and Ray Charles, too!  That man  _ amazes  _ me.”

Soul gasps as his excitement grows more and more.  The passion in their voices and expressions never cease as they sift through their favorite musicians.  Liz even manages to pull a fact out of Soul that he never shared with Maka:  _ he plays piano _ .   He says it so merrily, engulfed in the remembrance that he’s involved in musical culture.  

Behind them, Patty makes little “ohh”s and “ahh”s as she shops the art wall behind them.  She runs a finger along the packages, tapping at each that strikes her interest, and notes the details of each product.  It’s pretty pricey stuff, but he and Maka can’t really speak, either. The art pad in his hands isn’t exactly the cheapest one, either.  Her small squeals indicate well enough which ones she intends to buy and it’s accumulating quite a pile. 

He hasn’t heard much from Maka, though, aside from a faint laugh here and there.  It’s quite apparent she’s not in the know of it all. It’s no surprise; music doesn’t seem to be an obsession for her as it is to him.  He’s only caught her --- one time. She’s glancing back and forth, though, as if to keep up with the conversation without being a part of it.   The closer Liz steps to him, the more Maka eyes them. 

“Did you know The Hot Sardines are playing nearby next month?  I thought about getting tickets, but I don’t know anyone else who would actually go with me and enjoy it at the same time.  Maybe I should invite you, huh?” Liz laughs as she steps a little closer and lightly elbows his side. She adds a small wink to boot.  

Soul has heard of them, even heard some of their music.  He can spot the influences they’ve taken and appreciates their quality.  But he isn’t quite sure about taking the invitation. Although he has to confess, he hasn’t recently been to any concerts; it might just be refreshing . Going with someone he doesn’t know though, that’s another story. “That’d be cool.”  A relaxed, easy, and open reply!  It’s vague enough that it leaves options available.

“Maybe I could get your number and text you the details?”

He’s never exchanged phone numbers with a stranger so quickly, and he’s not feeling too apt to do it now.  He shoots a side-glance towards Maka. Hopefully she’ll read his silent signal. She appears a little annoyed, that crease forming right between her brows and tightly closed lips that’s usually reserved for when he says something stupid.  

She seems to get it, though, doesn’t even wait for approval to save him.  Maka hooks an arm around his. Even if he asked for it, it’s strange - a physical grab like this isn’t like her at all.  “He and I share the same classes,” she starts.  _ Thank goodness for that irony _ .   “So I don’t mind telling him for you.  It was great running into you, but we  _ reeeeaaally _ gotta go.  Can’t lose too much time to get that project work done.  Haha, right Soul?”  First, a hook around his arm.  Now there’s something different in her laugh, too.  It sounds…  _ forced _ , perhaps, with a maintained tone of kindness.  

“Uhh… yeah, I’ve been having trouble with my service lately, so I’ve been borrowing her phone.”  He can’t stop his hands from fiddling and feels his heart rate rising. They need to go  _ now  _ before Liz can see the falter in his lie.  “Maka sees me everyday, so you can just message her.”  

“Oh, that sucks.  But okay! Don’t wanna hold you guys up.  Be seein’ ya around!”

“Great meeting you two.”

Patty beams a smile.  “Later, gator!” 

Soul and Maka disappear around the corner of the isle and arrive at the checkout, where his art partner’s focus dives straight into getting rung up- and  _ quickly _ !  

  
  
  



	7. Torn Apart

It’s turning into another day at Maka’s studio. Not that it’s a problem. It’s something Soul actually looks forward to when classes end. Maka sits at the desk and Soul has migrated to using the bed as a drawing post. He has to admit it’s a bit more comfortable than the floor. She’s offered to switch seats several times, but it feels wrong to take away the surface she draws on so often. This is her studio after all; it’s him who’s invading. Although he has to confess that he’s pretty happy with how the comic looks so far. Maka’s done a great job setting up the action and balancing the panels per page, and his backgrounds are spot on to the story she tells so well. It’s been a partnership worth having, and he wouldn’t trade her for anyone else on this creative journey. 

Something looks off though… Soul curiously flips back to page one. It’s the same as he remembers and yet... there’s something different about it, too. The lines, perhaps? Has Blair padded around on top of the art book without their knowing and smeared something on it? He holds the first page inches away from his face to search for any feathering in the lines or dirty paw prints. 

He thinks it may just be his imagination when there are no traces of debris. Maybe he’s just paranoid, he wonders? Except, there’s a small marking that resembles something so familiar, and yet unfamiliar... It’s so vague it could be mistaken for dirt, but a light scratch on the paper tells that it’s definitely something laid down by a lead pencil.

His phone screen flashes for a moment. Distracted by the alert, he pauses his inspection to see who it is.

::Gonna be at Tsu’s tonight. ^_~ YAHOO!!::

After their double date in the movie theatre, Soul knows exactly what “yahoo” means. It means Blake’s going to come back with stories he shouldn’t be sharing. Soul types a quick message back, or else his friend will continue to pester him with personal plans, TMI that he prefers living without.

::K. See ya tomorrow::

He begins swiping unused applications closed. If Soul wants his phone battery to last through the night, he can’t have all of these programs open. Discord is still running, too. He’s right here with Maka though, so there’s no real need to keep that one active, either. Something about her icon catches his eye before he closes it out, though. Sure, he’s seen it before, but looking at it again, there’s a different familiarity about it than before. 

He shrugs it off. As he turns the screen off, he looks back at the artwork. It’s time to focus again! He has to figure out what those mysterious blurs in his pictures are. Come to think of it, the strange markings look a lot like... Maka’s avatar, the circle, the distinct shape of the wings. Now that he’s looking at it in more depth, it reappears in the same proportions on the next panel beside it, only embedded in a different spot. His finger trails from one scene to the next. The same hidden picture keeps reappearing on random parts of every background he’s drawn. 

“What in the hell?!” Soul asks, not generally shooting for an answer. 

Maka doesn’t turn around though, comfortably sat at her desk. She’s content and focused as she inquires. “Hmmm?” 

“This…” Soul points to the paper as if her eyes are on it too. “How did this get on here? I swear I didn’t draw that.”

There’s an awkward pause before Maka answers. She keeps drawing as she answers, not stopping to look back. “What does it look like?”

It’d be a lot easier if she’d just stop and peek at it! “A circle, with wings. It looks exactly like your Discord picture.”

“Weird.” Her response is oddly short. Where’s the energy she normally speaks in, the pep that spices their conversation in ways he never gets bored of? The Maka he knows would have some smart comment. Perhaps it’s that she’s really focused, though, so he tries to ignore the dismissive tone. 

“We didn’t exchange usernames till recently. How could I have possibly already-.”

Maka spins back around to look at him. “We have been working a long time. I’m sure it’s nothing worth worrying over.” She’s abruptly cut off as Soul proceeds to define the small, miniscule differences in his lines versus the drawing.

“No, Maka. I didn’t lay these lines down. They were smooth, industrial, calculated… but this,” Soul continues as he points to one of the winged icons that’s magically appeared on the page. “This is not a line my ruler would have left.”

Maka hesitantly laughs a little under held breath. She attempts to suppress a slow, wry smile, but it creeps up anyway.

“You… did this.” It’s not a question. 

Maka responds with a light shrug in her shoulders. Is that supposed to be a no? A yes? And how had he never noticed it before?? Soul can’t tell, but what he does know is that after all this time they’ve been drawing together, he recognizes their style differences all too well. She’s light, sketchy. These wings, they’re just that. 

“Haaaa…. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?” Maka’s face goes neutral, but her voice rings with guilt. 

Alright, so maybe he did whip up some changes of his own, too. Denying this would be like saying the sky is purple. But he stopped as soon as Maka learned his anatomy better! Soul’s embarrassed to think about his failure to notice all the little wings all over his art. How long has it been there? Days? Weeks? Regardless, it’s all he can see now. “Okay, so I altered your stuff a little at first, but that was only because you drew me looking like a girl!”

“Soul, its just a tiny icon. The pictures still look just like you had them before.”

“No, they don’t. Your wings are on every page multiple times!” Soul can’t emphasize these words enough. They’re taking over his vision and popping up on every corner of every page. “Thanks, Maka… now it looks like I didn’t do anything. All that hard work for nothing!”

Maka sighs. She sets her pencil down and locks her eyes to his. “You did do something; you drew all the buildings and the sky, and the ships, and the -”

“And they all have your signature now! Fuck!” Soul grabs his eraser in a haste of rage. It’s hard to tell if Maka’s trying not to smile, or trying not to frown. He flips back to page one, eyeing the art closely. When he spots the first set of wings, he dots the eraser on it as carefully as he can. It’s so finely fit in that he has to pay extra attention to what he’s doing.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Her apology earns no response, so she attempts to soothe him again. “Seriously, the pictures still look fine. It’s still the same stuff you drew before. If you wanna fix it after we finish this, then I’ll help you since I’m the one that did it.”

It’s not the same art. Soul knows this wasn’t the intent, that she’d only meant to pay him back. This isn’t the only time she’s been so stubborn. He (now) knows that it’s in her nature to defy; she’s so sly about stepping out of bounds, it easily goes undetected, just like the wings randomly splayed on their comic. How in the fuck did he not notice them till now? He’s an absolute idiot! It’s still infuriating, though. 

She understands his silent message. “Fine. if you have to do it, then fix it now since it’s soooo distracting. But remember this: if we don’t make deadline, it’s not because of me!”

Soul’s tempted to retaliate; he really needs to cool off before facing her again. If he speaks now, he’ll say something he doesn’t mean. As he turns his back to Maka and focuses on fixing the comic, Soul hears the anger in the swivel of her chair, incoherent muttering to match. She’s sketching again, but not in her normal, light way. It’s much heavier now, forced in a way that only fury inspires.

Let her be how she wants to be! Dwelling on her actions isn’t going to get his pictures right again. Fixing the backgrounds back to the way they were before should be easy. He’s the one who drew them, so he should be able to remember what was originally there. It’ll be tedious, but worth the effort. The task proves a bit more difficult than expected. The wings are blended in so well that every instance thus far results in redrawing almost everything near it. He’s skimping out on using the ruler in hopes that it’ll go faster; hopefully, there’s enough remaining lead to just fill it in. A few panels in, the repairs prove to be mentally exhausting as he tries to remember how everything was before, or maybe that’s just the frustration. The process is also halting their progress. She’s creating another page and he’s still trying to fix the first one. 

At this rate, he’ll be backed up. It leaves him wanting to quit. Everything he tries sets the art in an even deeper state of imperfection. Perhaps he should have left it there like she suggested. He refuses to give in so easily, though. She won’t win this battle! With a fresh bout of determination, he tries dabbing the eraser on the next hidden icon well-placed within a fine detail he spent so much time on.   
It’s set in more than he thought, faint traces of pencil markings embedded deep into the grains of the paper. Shit, another background he’s going to have to redraw! There’s more frustration in the motion and more pressure on the paper than he realizes though. One final swipe on the paper sends a shearing sound into the air. Red eyes widen at a nice long rip that splits the paper nearly in half like the scar on his chest. 

Karma’s definitely a bitch.

Silently, he ponders whether he could sneak it home and replicate it before Maka finds out. Fate gives no such chance, though. She’s already instantly silent, all sketching set to the side. “What was that?” she asks. When Soul has no answer to give, she turns back around. Even the faint creak from her chair is intimidating as it speaks disbelief. Her voice is a lot slower this time as she repeats her question. “Soul… what… was that?”

“Um, uh-it was...” Maybe he could say it was a blank, that he was testing out an idea and failed, but there’s not a single art pad close by. Both of their sketchbooks are beyond reaching distance, sitting idly on the far edge of the bed. The only paper within grasp is the stack of comic pages they’ve drawn.

His incapability of lying kicks in again, and at one of the worst times possible. “It’s just a small tear...” Or a really fucking huge rip. He tries to laugh it off, but Maka’s face is still. Her eyes tear holes in his conscience, and he can’t stop the guilt that’s seeping through. 

Maka closes her eyes and slowly lets out her long-held breath. She gently places her pencil down. It’s the scariest state he’s seen her in. Her beaming smile is gone and the little singing hum she keeps in her voice when she’s sketching is pure silence. Soul swears she’s wearing the same look she did when she first chucked at book at him in the library. “You IDIOT!” she screams. She grabs a book and chunks it his way. He almost manages to dodge it, but it strikes the corner of his temple, leaving a deep indent. Even in distance, her accuracy with a book is scary. He should have opted for the floor behind her bed! She’s not finished yelling, though. “What in the hell are we going to do now, Soul? How do I even explain this to Professor Stein?! He’s going to dock our grades if he sees this!”

Soul senses the sizzling anger, feels the heat steaming off her from across the floor. He’s probably even lost the privilege to sit on her bed, is afraid to risk it, so he jumps to his feet, hands raised in defense. “We won’t have to! I-I can totally redraw it. You’ll never be able to tell the difference!” 

There’s another book waiting by her side and her hand hesitantly nears it the longer he stands there. “I think you need to go home.” It’s not a suggestion. 

With a hard swallow, he answers, “Um yeah… I’ll just… get going then.” He has half a mind to try laughing it off as he scoops all his materials back into his backpack. Nothing escapes his voice, though. There’s nothing that can be said to soothe her rage and he doesn’t blame her for it. 

He’s halfway towards the door when a small pile of used dishes catches his eye. Soul is used to cleaning up everything he uses when preparing their meals so she can stay focused on drawing. “What about the plates? I haven’t even-”

“I’ll wash them. Now please go,” Maka insists. She points rigidly towards the door.

Being kicked out so abruptly hurts his heart. For so long, it’s gone so well, and now his stay is unwelcome. “T-talk to ya tomorrow,” he offers. There has to be something he can do-or say- to soften tonight’s sudden blow. She doesn’t answer, though, at least not in voice. Her widened eyes, firm frown and, assertive point towards the door again says everything he needs to know: leave. With great regret, he makes haste out of the studio he once called his second home.


	8. The Other Bare Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Maka's turn to teach Soul a lesson in anatomy.

Maka hasn’t spoken to Soul for days now.  She notices how he halfway stares her down when they cross midway in the hallways and sit in the same classes.  It’s like his eyes are silently begging her to speak, but there’s really not much to say.  She should have known it was inevitable since the day they were assigned as partners. He was gonna fuck up somehow.  What they had going was too good to be true.  Now she has to figure out how to finish it all by herself.  She hasn’t opened Discord, reluctant to see all the messages he’s probably left her.  Anything that could potentially sway her from this drive is off limits.  It’s the one feeling keeping her going, the one thing motivating enough to complete an entire project in such last minute notice.  

 Professor Stein dismisses class and sends them with one last reminder:  “ _Your comic projects are due next week.  You should all be close to completing them by now_.”  Maka laughs under her breath.  Close to completion?  They were doing so great until Soul messed it up.  His _stupid ass_ tore that sheet.  With a grunt, she jerks her backpack up and heads towards the door.  They’re doomed… _she’s_ doomed… unless Stein can offer an alternative.  There has to be an extra credit assignment she can submit to pull up her soon-to-be-low grade.  

 Before she makes it out of the door, someone pulls her back.  One look at the tan fingers curled around her arm says enough.  “Let go, Evans.”

 Soul hesitates slightly, loosening his grip, but he doesn’t let go entirely, so she yanks out of his grasp.  Continuing forward, she exits the classroom without further word.  He’s still trailing behind though, calling her name.  “Maka, wait!”

After several attempts to get her attention, it’s apparent that he’s going to remain persistent.  Unfortunately, there’s no avoiding him since they both share the same classes.  In a sudden stop, she spins around on her heels to face him.  “What?!  Come to tell me you’ve miraculously refabricated that page you tore?  Unless you have, I’m not interested!”

“I… No... no I haven’t.”  

“Which is exactly why I’m going to do it myself.   _I don’t need you_.”  Her pace picks back up as she continues forward and he follows suit again.  Leaving her alone would be a very good choice right now, but he doesn’t seem to agree.  She can’t go fast enough to lose him.; he’d probably even wait by the bathroom door for her just for a chance to speak.

“Maka, I’m sorry about what happened, _really, really sorry_.”

She doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t glance back at him as she answers his pleas.  “Reality check: saying sorry doesn’t give us a good grade, Soul.  Just don’t worry about it.  I’ll talk to Professor Stein.”

Soul forces Maka to a halt as he abruptly speeds up and steps in front of her to block her route.  They both stand awkwardly in the middle of the crowded hall as he locks eyes with her, unwilling to let go.  She tries to look away, but he only dodges around, forcing himself back into her view again.  “No!  I’m going to work for this grade,” Soul defends. “ _Let me contribute_! I owe it to you, all of it.”  Time stands still as his breath turns shaky and that infamous lip biting returns; he’s growing quite anxious and likely doesn’t even know he’s doing it.  

For a moment, Maka isn’t sure what to say.  This is the first time any partner has been so insistent and apologetic.  She thought Soul would be relieved at the idea of leaving the rest to her, but the assumption seems quite wrong.  Maka can’t deny someone who’s really trying. Nor can she deny being part of the problem.  Putting her little picture all over his art was like signing it as her own. The words ring in her memory…” _And they all have your signature now!_ ”  In complete honesty, he’d been right… he has every right to be angry and question her motive.  Simply put, she invaded his work, even after he stopped messing with hers.  

“I’m sorry, too.”  

Soul falls into silence and offers a quizzical look to her sudden, onset apology.  He deserves to know, to hear that just maybe she was wrong.  “I shouldn’t have messed with your stuff.  I thought it was just some silly revenge thing, that it would be funny, but I really disrespected you.  It looked great the way it was.  It really did, and it wasn’t mine to mess with.”

He places a hand on her shoulder and looks her straight in the eye and gives a vague smile.  “Maka, it’s fine,” he assures.  “Sure, it sucked seeing wings all over my art, and I deserved it for messing with yours, but it was my stupid attitude that got it ripped.”

“Okay, so you tore it accidentally?  You didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have blown up like that and realized it would have been okay to redraw _one dumb sheet_ ,” Maka says.  Here she began the project complaining about having a shitty partner, when in truth, her attitude was just as crappy.  She starts for another apology, but Soul’s making suggestions to recall their project already.

“We could always fix it and pick back up where we were,” he suggests with a light shrug.

“Ahh, about that…” Maka starts hesitantly.  She throws a hand behind her head and scratches bashfully.  It’s a little harder to face him as she admits a painful truth.  “I, uh... tried to redo it myself, but… fixing it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.”  True, she’s tried going back over the lines, hoping there’s enough remaining lead on the paper to copy over, but it looks nothing like it did before.  

It surprises Maka that Soul isn’t even one bit aggravated.  His art has been messed with enough already, yet he’s handling the situation with an astonishingly positive and calm attitude.  “Well, then maybe Dr. Stein will give us an extension.  I’ll even tell him I’m the one that ripped it apart, that way I’m the only one who loses any points.”

Soul’s constantly full of surprises, nothing like the predictable boy who fell asleep in class every day.  “Soul, that’s… really selfless of you.  You don’t have to suffer for me.” she responds, a hint of defeat masking over her tone.

“Well, damn.”  

 _Damn, indeed._ If he’s willing to try again, though, she is, too.  Right now, there’s no time.  Class starts in just a few minutes and she has to consult with her boss about getting time off so they have a winning chance at this project.  “Look, Soul, we’ll figure something out. Just meet me at my place tonight like usual. Six o’clock.”  He beams a smile she’s never seen before.  A wave of relief washes over her.  Why she’d been so _angry_ with him, she’s not sure.  But she’s damned proud that she gets to work with him again.

   -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 Soul’s glad to be back.  He hasn’t seen this place in days.  He’s missed the joy of cooking for Maka, too.  As he follows her towards their traditional art corner, he notices the stacked packages of ramen and yakisoba meals on the kitchen counter.  It wouldn’t surprise him if she hasn’t touched the meat and vegetables he left in freezer since his last departure.

“So uh… about that comic…” Soul starts as he plops casually on her bed and sets his backpack on the floor.  Blair is magically at his feet again, making figure eights around his ankles.  Maka’s in the kitchen, browsing the pantry, so he turns his attention to the feline below.  “Hey, girl!  I missed you!”  Soul leans down to pick her up and she merrily leaps onto his shoulder with an audible purr.  

Maka takes a long look at her cat, who’s endlessly fawning over and exchanging head butts with him.  Her eyes narrow and lips tighten into a frown.  “Seriously?  You’re abandoning me again, even after he tore our comic?   _Traitor_.”   

Blair returns a glance at Maka, then back at Soul with a crooked head and curious gaze.  The cat boldy leaps off his shoulder, claws still extended. “Ow!”  Soul pulls his shirt back to examine the damage.  There’s a pretty set of spotted red marks decorating the top of his scar.  He’ll definitely have to take care of it if he doesn’t want it to turn out looking like a dot-to-dot picture puzzle.

Maka doesn’t hold back her laugh. She holds Blair’s food bowl in hand as she retorts, “You deserved that.”

“Hey now!  I thought we were over that little incident.  Do I need to leave _again_?” he offers in defense.  Soul’s half tempted to walk out for a brief thirty seconds anyway, but she would probably hit in in the head with a book as soon as he walks back in.

“Geeze, I’m just playing around, Soul.  You’re not allowed to go yet!  I still need your help.”  He grins sheepishly.  She’s just admitted that she _needs_ him, something he mentally locks away in his memory so he’ll never forget.   Maka opens the can of cat food and spoons it into Blair’s dainty bowl.  “We have a comic to _redraw_ , remember?”

“Mind if I take a look?  Maybe I can go ahead and start fixing a few lines.”

She’s wearing a reluctant look as she sets the bowl down and rises back up.  Maka withdraws at his request, voice suddenly down to a mutter.  “I…. I’m not so sure you want to see it.  It looks terrible, really.”

“Bah!  Can’t be that bad.  You’ve done so good on it while I was here.  If anything, I can just redraw a few things.  It’ll be _fine_.”  He expects her to walk to her bag, but instead, she idles awkwardly in front of the garbage can and peers into it with an agenda to search.  It puzzles him to watch her start digging lightly into it.  Proceeding are a few loose balls of paper. Horror washes over Soul’s features.  His once beaming expression falls as he pales at the sight of the wadded sheets in her hands. 

When Maka finally sits beside him on the bed, she sets countless balls of paper between them and starts unravelling on, a pained look plastered on her face the whole time.  “Yeah, so… I’m not so sure Professor Stein’s going to accept these…”

 “Why did you…” Soul starts, but one look at the comic answers the question well enough.

Not only is every sheet a crumpled mess, but the old and new lines are shaky where they meet.  He can spot exactly where her sketching picks up from his.  Some of them even combine into unidentified objects, making the scenery a bit…. vague.  There’s no consistency in the background anymore.  He can even spot where he changed her character art from the start: messy leftover lead that’s already seeped permanently into the paper.  Seems even his “editing” wasn’t even that smooth.  Simply put: Their comic looks shitty.

“You really should take a perspectives course,” he suggests.

“You figure?? I was totally going to use this as our final...”  Maka retorts, shaking the crinkled page in the air.  “We really gotta do something about it, though, and _fast_.”

“What if we just start over, and work longer days on it?”  

She sighs and tosses one of the paper balls on the floor.  “ _I can’t do that_.  I have work study, remember?  I tried asking, but the boss won’t let me off and rent still has to be paid.”  A paper ball falls to the floor, but neither attempt to catch it.  Right now, the comic is as good as the litter on her carpet.  “Besides, a factory line isn’t going to work on this kind of time crunch.  We have a week to draw what we spent almost an entire semester on!  God, I should have just left it all alone!”  She falls back on the mattress and throws her arm over her eyes.  “I really fucked up, Soul.”

“Hey, hey!  It’s going to be _fine_ ,” Soul assures, patting the top of her hand gently.  He stands up and paces for a moment, tapping a finger on his chin.  With an idea in mind, he stops abruptly and turns towards her.  “So how about this: I’ll work on it while you’re at work.  Then when you get back, we’ll both draw together.  Double the drawing time!”

“And let you draw DDD’s on me?  No, thank you.”

“It’s that, or copy Cyanide and Happiness, draw everything with sticks and circles!  That ought to be a pretty fast method.”

Maka chuckles lightly and sits back up.  Her bangs are strewn about in front of her eyes, so she blows it out of the way.  “Cyanide and Happiness is funny.  But it’s not _us_.  We have to be original about it.  Not steal some other artist’s ideas.”  

“BUT, I do have more free time than you.  I want to be of use, not just sit around.”

She eyes the balled up artwork they spent so much time on.  She looks back towards him expectantly.  “I need to outline the story again and the styles have to look alike!  Just try to match mine as close as possible, and we’ll compromise together from there.  Only, can you _not_ make me look like Barbie this time?  And actually draw some practical clothes on me?  That deep v-neck was horrible.”

“I can try.  But I’m not used to drawing pre-teens.”

Maka scoffs and her jaw drops  “I..I’m not a pre-teen!  My curves just aren’t… they’re not as obvious, okay?!”  Her cheeks puff out as she glares at him.  “Let me ask you a question, Soul… Where did you learn how to draw women?”

“Uhhh… anime?  It’s some great art, and it looks better than square-to-circle cartoons.”

“I’m not an anime character.  I have a realistic figure.  Just like you wanted to look masculine, I’m asking you to make me look a little more real.”

If she wants to look realistic on paper, than he’s willing to compromise.  “Fine, fine… Then tell me how you learned.”  If he can find out what her source is, it might be easier to match her figures through similar (but last minute) training.

“Easy!  I posed in the mirror, and mimicked it.”  Maka shrugs and smiles as if this solution is a norm for everyone.  

Soul stares deadpan at her.  Looking at his body in a mirror isn’t going to teach him the anatomy of breasts and hips.  “Thanks, that’s _great advice_. Unless you plan on posing for me, that’s not gonna work out so well.”  He motions his hands down his sides, gesturing to a very-male torso.  “No boobs, remember?”

Maka returns the stare for a good, long moment, lost in thought.  He can see the wheels turning as her face contorts to an undefined expression: annoyed, determined, and yet somehow nervous at the same time.  “Fine,” she replies as she firmly stands before him.

‘Fine’ could mean anything; It could mean “yes, I’ll strip for you” or “you’re right, you won’t learn from posing in a mirror”.  The vague answer could just be a sign of annoyance, a way to say his response was dumb.  Soul’s not sure how to take it.  A moment passes before she rests her hands on her hips and looks him straight in the eyes, seeming to have made some decision.  “Fine.  I’ll do it.  But ONLY this one time for the comic!”

“Uh, you _do_ know that was just a rhetorical thing.  I don’t actually _expect_ you to strip.” Soul says, confident she’ll change her mind.  Maka’s brave, but it’s not like her to volunteer as a nude model.

“You’re right though. A real model is better than using another anime girl.  It’s not fair that you were willing to do if for me and I haven’t helped in return.” She’s already starting to blush, even when she hasn’t taken off anything yet.

Soul flushes instantly.  She couldn’t actually be considering… and he’s never...   _No, he didn’t ask for this!_ “W-wait, what?  You’re actually going to p-pose?  N-naked?” Soul asks.  The tables are turning on him and he’s not ready for it.  

Maka scoffs lightly as her red face burns even brighter. “ _Naked_?! N-no!  I’m… I’m going to have my bathing suit on, okay?!”  She’s already turning him around before he can try to decline.  “Don’t turn around until I say so!  And cover your eyes!” 

He would turn back to stop her, but by the sound of it, Maka’s instantly fumbling furiously through her dresser.  She’s ranting accusational words, as if brainstorming to think of the worst name to call him.  Hell, this was _her_ decision, not his, so why she’s grumbling is a mystery!  “Look, it’s okay, Maka.  I can just-” Soul starts.  He jumps a little when he hears the bathroom door slam shut, though.   _Great…_ if he even walks over to the bathroom door, shut or not, there’s no telling what perverted names he might be called next.  She’s going to slam his head with a book if he’s anywhere near earshot.

Her muffled voice rings through the door.  “No, Evans.  It’s not fair that you gave yourself up to teach me.  I owe you the same favor.”  _Although there are a lot more viable options out there instead of sacrificing her privacy_.  It’s too late, though.  The fact that she used his last name means her mind is set on this.  There is no swaying the decision now. 

He sighs, weighed down by her iron will.  There’s no use in arguing now, so he stands silently, back still facing the bathroom door.  He’s never done this before, almost feels kind of guilty for it, too, even though it’s _her_ who initiated it.  Or was it?  Soul grumbles and slaps his forehead as he remembers what he said: _Unless you plan on posing for me…_ He should have never uttered those words!  A tap on the shoulder wakes him up from endless regret.  He feels her presence behind him and knows it’s his cue to turn around, but hesitates.   _He really shouldn’t be taking advantage of her like this_.  There’s still time to stall and suggest something else.  When no words form, though, she steps around to face him and clears her throat.  

The sight of her before his eyes is utterly gorgeous!  Maka’s frame is so lithe and strong at the same time and also so… _beautiful_.  She’s not the bustiest girl he’s known, but her slight curves are there, every proportion accenting her petite height perfectly.  She’s both ridiculously cute and adorably sexy.  To hell with anime figures; he’s been looking at the beauty of women from an _entirely wrong angle_.

It’s not until she speaks that he realizes how warm his cheeks are and how long he’s been holding his breath.  “You just gonna stand there and stare?”

“R-really, you don’t have to do this, Maka.  I-”

“No, no, you need this if you’re going to draw these comics with me.  Although, to be honest, I’m not really good at teaching, so... I’m just going to, uh, pose for you, so you can go ahead and draw me.”  It’s a very abrupt teaching method, but the small exercise should open his eyes and mildly train his hands on the subtleties that he’s overlooked.

“Uh, sure… y-yeah... ” Soul stammers.

“Just try to make it quick okay?  Because it’s going to get cold, and when that happens, I’m covering up, whether you’re finished or not!”  Just like that, the fire in her soul is back.  If he’s going to benefit from this lesson, he can’t procrastinate.  Maka scopes around the studio, briefing all the possible places she could sit or stand. Finally she chooses the seat at the desk and leans back in the chair just enough so she’s slightly stretched out, yet still sitting.  One arm rests on the top of the desk and the other rests on top of the back of the chair.  She’s chosen a very smart pose for a one-time deal.  From this view, Soul can observe the overall shape of her frame, proportions of her arms and legs, and most importantly, the soft curves of her hips and chest.  

 He gulps hard as he hesitantly picks up his sketchbook and pencil.  

 “And no kinky stuff!!” Maka insists.

 A nervous laughter bubbles as he answers.   “Yes ma’am.”  His mind is occupied with thoughts about how he’s never drawn an almost-naked woman from a real model.  

 “I need you to draw only what you see.   _No exaggerations_ regardless of how boring you think it is!  Remember, this isn’t anime.” 

It’s not boring, though.  She’s actually a very beautiful model.  “Aright, I’m about to start drawing, so stay still, alright?”  As he starts, Soul’s eyes hesitantly dash back and forth between his sketch pad and Maka.  He’s not sure where to start, concerning a real model, an often impatient one at that.  One glance at his now held out hand shows he’s already shaking.  Hopefully she hasn’t noticed, so he uses the moment to measure her with his pencil as his grip on it grows even tighter.

He does a rough sketch and now that he has the basic pose done, it’s time to fill in the little details.  This is where he normally cuts in a few curves, draws in and exaggerates a few features to reinforce femininity.  He knows he has to pay close attention to catch what makes her how she is.  For a safe start, he begins with her face.  This part is too easy: her face is round with only a slightly tapered chin, nothing too sharp, nothing too different from the first picture he drew, except she’s not heavily laid with make-up.  Her features are gentle, though, so he leaves the lines soft, light...   As he shifts his attention to her eyes, it dawns on him that despite knowing she’s half Asian, he’s never actually asked which nationality specifically.  Maybe he just never wanted to offend her, or maybe it’s that up until now, he’s never thought to ask about her background.  Didn’t she say something about moving out of a hell hole?  In the same retrospect, she’s never asked about his scar, either.  Perhaps now he might be willing to open up a little more.

Maka’s caught him in mid-thought though and her eyes nervously meet his.  Oh God, she’s getting the wrong idea!  _Look back at your paper and draw something_ , he quickly instructs himself and follows up with a few lines, refraining from glancing back up.  His old style is cropping back up as he does, peeping through curves he’s already assuming would be there.  

“I hope you’re not daydreaming, Soul,” she exclaims when his eyes don’t come back up.  “I… I’m not doing this for nothing, so you better pay attention!”

Shit, she’s right... _Look back at her if you want to do this right_!  With a hard gulp, he says with a nervous jest, “j-just trying to get it right before I move on.”  Which is true.

He finds the bravery to bring his eyes back to her, who quickly looks off to the side, and follows her neckline down to her torso.  She’s fidgeting in her seat and twiddling her thumbs, but not enough to mess with his observation.  She must be just as shy about this as he is, yet she’s so brave at the same time.  Soul notes that her hips don’t have an exaggerated figure eight, yet there’s a unique curve to it just above her hip.  He narrows his focus on it, mentally measuring the small inset, and fixes the lines so they match.

Her chest, though… How does he draw her chest without looking like a pervert in the midst of his observation?  A jingle breaks the silence and Maka glances at her cat with a smile.  Somehow watching Blair play with her toy ball soothes Maka’s nerves and she’s stopped twitching in her seat: the perfect opportunity to get an image of her chest.  He zones his focus in on it, eyes narrowed and attuned, and notes that there’s just a hint of curve.  It’s not defined enough to use hard lines, but rather shaped by shadow.  

He feels his cheeks turn bright again as the image of the soft shape of her breasts burn into his memory.  Why is this happening?  Why now?  This session is not meant to be sexual and he’s not supposed to be reacting so immaturely!  It’s just women’s anatomy, perfectly natural, he reassures himself. But she deserves to have her character drawn in a fashion she’s happy with, just as he’d demanded the same before.  An eye for an eye.  Now Soul knows how she felt when he imposed himself on her.  He tries to distract his mind and adds a touch of shade in the middle, enough to show that she _is_ still endowed.  If she catches him gawking, she’ll deck his skull again for sure.

 Lastly are her legs.  It’s no wonder she’s so agile.  They’re strong, and yet oh-so-slender.  The curve of her muscle is perfect.  She can easily outrun him any day.

Every now and then, he catches himself staring back at her overall, but not in the sense of ogling her exposed body.  More in the way of watching her nervous fiddling, how she occasionally curls her toes and twirls her thumbs, how she smiles so softly, despite carrying a fiery look in her vivid green eyes.  She’s made of both beauty and strength, and he’s growing to like it more and more.

She seems to notice his long gazes, too.  “Y-you’re finished, right?”

“O-oh!  Y-yeah, almost... just double checking a few things.”  

Her foot is tapping again and she’s playing thumb war with herself.  It’s hard to tell if she’s anxious about still sitting in her bathing suit or the results of the picture.

Soul smiles and lets out a sigh of relief as he gazes merrily at the picture.  

Maka seems to pick up on his completion and suddenly perks up from her nervous state.  She’s full of beaming energy again and seems to have completely forgotten she’s half naked as she strolls to the bed where he’s sitting.  “So?  Can I see it?” 

Maka’s getting mighty close to him, and almost brushing as she crawls around to peer over his shoulder.  “Y-yeah, sure,” Soul answers, scooting over to create a little distance.  Not that he doesn’t like the sight; _he just doesn’t want to get chopped_!

“Now, THAT’S a lot better,” the girl chimes merrily.  “Looks a lot better than that barbie crap, doesn’t it?”

“Yeaaaaahhhh.”  Soul smiles fondly at the drawing before him.  It really does, though.  Maka doesn’t look gaudy or fictional, doesn’t look unrealistic or made up; instead, her picture carries a balance of both nature and beauty.  It’s the best picture he’s ever drawn of a woman, of _her_.  It’s something he’d like to see in their comic more now, the true Maka.

She cuts off the conversation quickly.  “Now if you excuse me, you can turn around now so I can _get dressed!_ ”  She turns his back to the bathroom and grabs a new set of clothes, shutting the bathroom door behind her again.

Soul has to admit it: he’s very proud of this art piece, so he uses the opportunity to stash it away in his book bag before Maka can emerge again to take it away, or so he thinks she will do.  It’s a special picture and he wants to keep it.

 


	9. Reboot

Maka doesn’t regret changing into her bathing suit for Soul.  Not that she’s going to volunteer again- it’s up to him to retain what he learned about her figure- but it does offer more assurance.  It’s safe to say they’re even now. 

Only, they didn’t draw any of the comic at all.  In her previous haste to fix things on her own, a lot of sleep was lost, admittedly half the reason she was so grumpy towards Soul.  Their night ended early when he noticed her yawning shortly after her modeling session and insisted they would be more productive today.  In a sense, he was right, too.  She’s thinking more clearly, has more energy overall, is generally happier.

A library study room is open, ironically the same one they first met in when they initially exchanged pictures.  The chip in the plaster from- what title was that book again?  Her fury that day must have erased it from her memory.  Either way, said dent hasn’t been repaired yet (and it probably won’t be for a long time). 

Soul arrives, welcoming himself in without a knock.  There’s a sense of deja vu when he casually takes the seat across from her.  "So you have that art ready?”

Soul blinks cluelessly.  “Ahhhh what?  I thought we….”

She chuckles, though.  “It’s a _joke_ ,” she states with a smile.  “ _Yes_ , we’re here to create plan B… and draw our asses off for God knows how long.”  

Maka attempts to recap their original storyboard, jotting notes in a composition notebook as she thinks out loud, but hesitates halfway.  “Do we still have to draw something about space?” she asks with a hint of caution in the wind.  In the beginning, Soul stayed adamant about it; she really doesn’t want to leave him unhappy by insistently straying from the theme if he still wants it.  

He perks up to answer, but midway through, he pauses.  Anticipation slowly turns into doubt.  “I... actually I don’t remember half of the machinery I referenced to.”

Maybe it’s safe to tread a little bit on her opposing opinion.  “To be honest… that idea just wasn’t really that catchy.  I thought it would work for both of us, but I just couldn’t get into it.  Sorry…”  Maka expects Soul to argue against her unpopular opinion, but he’s unusually quiet for someone who initially pushed for it in the first place.

“Well maybe we could change it somehow, like…” Soul starts.  None of the thoughts coming into a comprehensive fruition.  “I’m not really sure anymore either, Maka.  I dunno, I just thought it’d be cool, but that took fucking _forever_ to draw.  I’d say skimp out on anything tech-ish.”

“We have no other ideas planned out, though, and only days to complete it.”

“Professor Stein said it has to involve us, right?  What if we draw about our experience?”

Maka’s shoots a confused -and curious- gaze.

“Look back at what’s happened.  This entire semester _by itself_ has been an adventure, and something we’re both familiar with.  It’s also something that our audience will recognize pretty easily.”

“Look at you, growing up on me.”  

Her statement earns a narrow glare.  “I’m not the one who throws books at people in retaliation. School oughta charge you for it.  Throw that shit on top of your tuition.” 

It’s her turn to glare now, and Soul immediately brings his arms up front in defense.  “No, I’m not going to throw anything at you.”  Soul sighs in relief, shoulders dropping back to relax again.  “But yeah, I get what you’re saying.  It’d be easy to draw, too.  If you’re down, then I’m down.”

As each day passes, they spend more time at her place and less time speaking whilst sketching, save for dinner.  Maka’s not missing out on that perk while she has it.  Otherwise, they’re both consumed in art for hours, drawing page by page, only this time their styles are a lot more cooperative.  They _have to be_ , considering the project is officially due in less than twenty-four hours.  If only it hadn’t taken the entire semester to finally get on the same page.

Maka’s finally learned that there’s an extension on her desk.  Since it elongates enough that they both fit, she’s even invested in another chair.  It doesn’t feel right that Soul has stayed knelt down on the floor and on the bed, scrunched in a yoga-like ball, but he always declined her offer to swap.  “ _Nah, I like sitting on the floor_ ” he’s told her every time.  He doesn’t decline this time, though.  They have to know each other’s progress and follow each other’s prompts to make it right. 

“Yo, Maks,” Soul says as he pauses mid-way on a sketch of a building, perspective lines still lightly grazed in pencil.  He perks up and points to a blank, pre-outlined panel. “What was the idea you had here again?” 

“Ehhhh?”  Maka leans over briefly, glancing at the overall page he’s working on.  They've been sketching for six hours straight now and exhaustion starts setting in a case of artist's block.  Neither can think well and they need a break, but the deadline is approaching fast. If they don’t draw at Mach 5, they’ll never stay ahead enough to complete it.  “Oh, that’s the part where you start stripping.” 

“Really?  Do we have to put that in there?” 

“But it’s _funny_!”  Nobody has to know it really happened.  Or maybe a part of her just wants a visual memory she can hold onto forever.  At the time, she was quite shy to even try his idea, but looking back, it’s something she’ll never forget, a story that will stick out in her memories that she’ll be able to laugh at.   

Soul grumbles under silent breath.  “How did I miss this in our planning?” he mutters, but dismisses the complaint just as quickly as he gives in and lays his pencil back down on the paper to draw again.  “You better not tell anyone I actually did it!” 

“Only if you don’t tell them I stripped for you, too!” 

Back and forth, the neat stack slowly gets higher page by page.  At some point, they know they need to eat, although they really should power through that, too.  Still, Soul pauses to cook a nice meal as she continues.  Every one of their dinners together at her studio have been so nice: stir fry, chicken and rice, dumplings, chicken and tofu chef salad.  He spoils her more than she deserves, especially after all the judgement and accusation she set on Soul before even getting to know him. 

_What am I thinking?  It’s all about the project, Maka, not him,_ she tells herself.  Although it does feel lonely when he’s not there now.  No!  She cannot afford such distractions.  Speaking of him, he’s grown awfully quiet now.  Probably distracted on the phone as she makes the final wrap ups on their fresh new comic.     

Finally, Maka has the last page inked and shaded.  With the time they have left, the option of coloring it became a question of IF they could splash a few hues on it.  Ultimately, it’s just been given a two-tone color job.  Still, looking back at the pages, she has to admit they’re looking great, even if they aren’t in full scale color.  Strong lines.  Strong characters.  Real stories.  A proud smile shows as she neatly gathers the stack of panels back into proper order. 

“Ta-Daaaa—“ Maka starts as she spins around in her small swivel chair to face Soul, all twenty pages in hand, but her voice fades as he comes into view.     

He’s sprawled out, limbs akimbo on her tiny twin-sized bed.  Blair is - of course- stretched out by his head, the two somehow sharing a single pillow.  Any closer to his face, and Soul will be literally breathing through cat fur.  _Damned cat loves him more than she loves me now; how in the hell does that happen?_   Maka ponders. The alarm clock on the bedside table illuminates that it’s already 4:00 am, a reluctant reminder that they both have to be in class in _five hours_.  If she doesn’t go to sleep now, the rise of dawn and glorious rays of sunshine will be the next thing to keep her up.

There’s barely any room on her mattress with the angle Soul is lying, though.  It would be a shame to wake him up, but one glance outside the bedroom door reminds her just how uncomfortable the couch is.  It’s simply worn out- tears among the seams that threaten to break open new holes, cushions that once held great volume, overall it’s lost too much soft bounce to lay comfortably on. Not to mention the tell-tale flying threads that suggest perhaps her precious Blair should have been declawed.  Honestly, the worn out furniture hurts her back.  The blanket dangled over it is merely a cover up to make it look prettier.  She _really_ has to buy a new couch soon. 

The girl strolls quietly towards Soul.  It isn’t till now that she realizes he’s also stripped down to his boxers and undershirt!  Her cheeks tinge.  Sure, he’s been over almost every night, but he’s never welcomed himself so openly to her bed!

Maka gently prods pale fingers against Soul’s shoulder.  “Hey,” the girl starts, but he’s not budging.  It’s not stirring him at all, so she pushes him a little harder.  “Hey, sleepy head…” 

“Mmmm…”  He moves a little, but only to roll away from her.   

“Soul, I need my bed.” 

Another muffled grumble escapes from him as he curls up and draws the blanket in closer to his body.  No matter how many times she repeats his name or pushes down on the mattress, the boy doesn't move.  At this rate, he wouldn't hear the fire alarm if their lives depended on it.  There’s room for one more, though. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”  It’s either this small space beside him, or the floor… Jade eyes dart between the two options and she sighs, realizing which one will inevitably win.  She sternly reminds herself that this means absolutely nothing. _Sharing a bed isn’t going to hurt her_.  Luckily, Soul’s back is turned, so this rare exception is a little more excusable. 

Reluctantly, the girl slides into the bit of space he’s cleared.  Thankfully, he’s no stranger.  Still, she turns her back to his, scoots away just enough so they aren’t touching, and pulls the other half of the comforter over her.  His body heat already has it toasty.  Quickly, she’s taken over in slumber. 

The blaring alarm isn’t what Maka anticipated so quickly, though.  It feels as if she’s barely blinked, morning making itself known in what feels like just a split second.  The sun unwelcomingly invades her eyes through half-cracked blinds.  She swears she went to bed turned away from the window, though.  Wincing, she looks down.  A vision of Soul slowly clears up. It's not what she sees that alerts her.  It’s what she feels: a warm shoulder under her touch.  His chest is where her pillow should be, which is tossed on the floor instead. And is that… a spot of drool on his shirt? Judging by the spot it's at, it's clearly from her. She’s halfway snuggled on top of him and her cheeks instantly warm as she feels the body heat they share under the blanket. 

If Soul finds out, she’ll never hear the end of it!  Taking advantage of his lingering slumber, Maka very gently lifts the cover back and rolls off the bed lightly enough so the mattress doesn't bounce.   A mere three hours of sleep has the coffee pot calling her name.  She walks to the kitchen, careful that the floor doesn’t creak too loudly underneath her.   Once the coffee is prepped and ready, she carefully pours a cup and savors the first sip.  The steam rising from it is quite comforting and the warm liquid soothes her soul, as exhausted as she still is.  Hopefully the caffeine kicks in soon, too.  It’s tempting to set the clock for thirty more minutes, but if she goes back to sleep now, they’ll both be late.   

Although, Maka kind of wishes Soul were up, too, to cook breakfast.  His dinners have been simply divine compared to the cheap,single-serving college meals and frozen packs she buys so often.  They’ve been so good, she can’t help but to think that he deserves the same treat.  Ah, yes!  Perhaps is she cooks breakfast for him, he can truly understand her appreciation, something beyond words alone!  That’s it!  Maka will surprise him.  She’s watched him more than once, so surely some knowledge about cooking stirs about in her memories a little.  He’s still knocked out, so by the time it’s finished, he should be getting up. 

It’s a task, opening the cabinets, moving around dishes, pulling stuff out of the fridge, all without waking him when he’s just on the other side of the room.  Now that the stove burners are nice and hot, cooking will be a cinch!  After laying a few sausage patties and a layer of whipped eggs into each pan, she smiles contently, grabbing a book nearby that she’s had on hold since their binge-drawing sessions.  One chapter should be enough till it’s ready.  A perfect celebration for a project well-done! 

-.-.-.-.-. 

There’s crisp aroma in the air, but not the slightest bit in a fresh sense.  It’s a burning scent, the kind you can taste just by breathing it in.  Soul jumps out of bed as fast as possible, hopping carelessly, one leg after another, into his jeans again, and rushes to where it’s coming from.  Since the room isn’t necessarily lit or smoke-filled, the bed sheet in his hand ought be big enough to snuff out whatever small fire has started in his sleep.  Even more baffling: Maka’s not in bed, so how has she not noticed it? 

Low and behold, a slow simmering of smoke is rising from the frying pans on the stove range.  Maka comes flying in behind him, tossing her book onto the bar. She instantly grabs the nearest oven mitt and throws the pans to the sink.  When she runs the water, steam instantly rises, steam so thick that neither partner can see each other. It only intensifies the taste of ash in the air and both begin to choke, hastily backing up to catch a fresh breath..   

“What in the flying fuck was that??” Soul manages as he coughs and waves a hand in front, clearing a path in the smoke-ridden air until he can see her again.  “And why didn’t the smoke alarm go off?!  Your landlord _does_ care about safety, right?” 

Maka opens her mouth to chastise him, but shuts it quickly.  She looks down shamefully at the floor, thumbs fiddling uncontrollably.  “Well, you’ve helped me out so much lately that I…. I wanted to do something in return.” 

The smoke has miraculously cleared up enough for the two to return to the mystery food.  Said pan is relatively darker now than he remembers it being the night before.  He hardly recognizes it as the one he bought anymore.  Picking up one of the forks lying on the counter, Soul prods at the contents inside, watching the thin edge of the inedible product crumble.   

“Ummm, that was a really sweet gesture, Angel, but it’s blackened…”  Soul stabs the burnt content with the fork, holds it into the air in observation, and bangs it against the toiled pan.  It emits a distasteful clank, begging to be tossed.  

Maka lets out a huff and squints her eyes in disbelief.  She crosses her arms in determination, gaze unwilling to let him win this morning. _Even though it was her fault._  Soul considers just biting the bullet for whatever is about to come up next.  Her feisty moods are difficult to fight and it’s too damn early to even try.  

“Well, excuse me for trying to do something nice for you!  Next time, I should just-”  She pauses, though, a wavering look washing over her face.  Her words falter in a way Soul doesn’t expect.  “Did you just call me… Angel?” 

_Oh shit…_

“Oh, errr.…”  His hand flies to the back of his head and he immediately turns his eyes towards the floor, scrambling for words to explain this little mishap.  That word was never meant to be spoken out loud!  “It… ah, it’s just that, um… during all these times...”  Soul can’t stop the shade of red coming over his cheeks.  “D-during our project work, you’ve been such a great player and I, I uh...I couldn’t have done it without you.”   

“O-oh…”   

Soul winces a bit, hoping she hasn’t taken it the wrong way.  At some point, the pet name just kind of… lingered in his mind, but he never intended on actually _voicing_ it.    

“I-I’m sorry, I can refrain from calling you that again, if you want.  It just seemed… fitting.”  _Fitting for her_.  “That is, for this project, of course!” Soul corrects. He almost regrets even coming up with the name now.   _You idiot!  You’re making this awkward!_

 Maka smiles, though, and it’s oh-so-soothing.  “Soul, don’t worry!  It’s okay.  I… I actually don’t mind it.”  She laughs, meek and unable to hold his gaze.  “It’s the first time anyone’s ever called me anything like that, to be honest.” 

Ironically, he can’t help but to smile back in return.  She actually _likes_ it.  He silently determines that this is _his_ name for her. Anybody else who uses it can go fuck themselves.  “Oh, well… glad to be the first, then!  On that note, how about I fix us something good to eat then, in celebration of our comic!” Once again, he’s the cook, but he honestly doesn’t mind.  It’s his treat to someone who has put in so much effort to make their project great, and there’s nothing more he can ask of her.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

It’s a rush to get to class. After such a late night, both Soul and Maka find it difficult to wake up, but the breakfast he whipped up is a good start. A quick stop at the coffee shop may also have been a delay, but neither regret the choice. Professor Stein is quick to the punch. “I hope everyone has their comics ready for submission. Remember, this is forty percent of your grade. I expect you to turn these into me at the end of class.” He’s already made it clear that there’s no grace period after this.

A mutual smile is shared between the two across the room as Soul and Maka reside in their respective seats. They’ve finally started to learn how to communicate without verbally speaking. We did it, they say as their eyes meet. Others look like they’re sweating bullets, though. Did they not complete it? Did their styles not cross well? This is something they won’t know till the professor shares links to everyone’s stories on the campus website, which will be made public.

It’s a bitter-sweet end. Despite their setbacks, Maka’s quite thankful for the time she’s spent with Soul. There’s so much more to him than she originally knew, so much more than she imagined. Now that she’s actually taken the time to know him, she sees what Blair saw in him. Sadly, today also marks the end of his escapades at her residence.

Stein continues, though. “I hope everyone also studied for the exam, too. You know the drill. Everything off your desk except for your pencils and erasers. Cheating will not be tolerated and will earn you a zero.” The professor picks up a neat stack of papers from the corner of his desk and hands a portion of each stack to students at the bottom of each column. His chair whizzes across the room with ease. Take one down, and pass it around, or up in their case. 

“You have two hours starting now,” Stein instructs as soon as a paper is officially in every student’s possession. The room falls quiet in mutual concentration. It’s a cinch for Maka. She thinks each question thoroughly and when she finally feels confident about the answer, marks it without hesitation. An hour later, Maka flips back to the beginning of the stack, taking another look at each question. Everything is answered exactly how she remembers it!

A glance across the classroom tells her that Soul isn’t feeling so well about it. He’s biting his lip… again. At this rate, he’s going to leave scars all over his mouth. She watches as Soul pauses to run a hand through his white hair, now disheveled by nerves. It dawns on her that she’s been mistaking his last minute cramming with a selfish assumption; the scrambling has never been from a lack of studying. She’s watched him when he doesn’t realize it, seen as he sifts through assignments from other courses. Now that she thinks back, Maka distinctly remembers spotting a few “A”s on them, too. He was never nervous about working on those papers. But here he is, a hot, wretched mess, fumbling in his desk, as if there’s no such thing as comfort. There’s being nervous, but there’s also being anxious.

The time nears the end of the allocated time for their final exam, and Soul is still hastily scribbling on his stack of paper. His eyes dart around it, panic turned on high. With only five minutes remaining, it’s safe to assume he’s wasted so much time worrying that now he’s just trying to complete it. It all clicks in her mind: this is where his worst grades came from every time, where they still come from: one major failure balanced by a multitude of overwhelming successes.

“Pencils down!” Stein exclaims. The professor walks down each isle to personally collect the finished exams, no wild chair excursions. 

Handing in hers is easy. When Stein reaches Soul, though, his hands are shaky, the paper quivers as it’s placed into the professor’s possession. Soul forces his feet to stop their repetitive tapping on the floor and looks up to offer a sheepish smile. Once the professor is out of his vicinity, he lets out a long held breath. It’s admirable how he actually worries about his grades. Didn’t he say something about proving his parents wrong?

Class is dismissed at last. Maka picks up her bag merrily and makes haste down the steps. She pulls out their comic and hands it to Professor Stein. He hasn’t even looked through it and appears just as pleased, or is he flashing a look of defiance? There’s no time to worry, though. She stands idle, waiting for Soul.

“You have test anxiety,” she states when he finally reaches her. 

“Ehh?” 

“Don’t worry about it, Soul. If you did even half as good as you did on the comic, then you’re definitely bound to make it. How else could you have gotten this far?” As they both step out of the classroom, he’s yet to answer. “How about this: from now on, we can be study buddies. It’ll be a lot easier since we’ll be sharing the same classes!” Maka reassures. It’s in high hopes that if anything comes out of the offer, she can use it to ease his nerves. Or maybe it’ll also keep his presence at her small studio.

“Actually…. We won’t.”

Maka pauses in the hallway. In the same sense that she saw his anxiety, he spots her concern. It’s like they’re linked, understanding each other’s body language as if they’ve grown up together. “You were great partner, Maka! Really! It’s just that…” Soul throws an arm behind head, hesitant to continue. “I recently got approved to transfer into game design, so… we’re not even going to share the same building anymore.”

“Oh…” Maka’s smile drops a little, but she keeps what small bit of it she can. “That’s great, Soul! You’re going to do so well and finally show your parents that art makes a difference.” She’s happy for him, happy to see him pursue something he wants, but she’s not prepared for the fact that they’re parting ways. Last year, her best friend, Kid, was accepted into an abroad law school, and now Soul has found another path, too, just when they started to truly understand each other. Part of her wants to selfishly beg him to stay in the illustration program just so they can keep seeing each other; the other part knows she has to let him go.

“It doesn’t have to end here though…”

Maka looks back up to meet his eyes, curious to know the plan brewing in his mind. There’s no way she can apply for the same program in time to keep up with him. Going into the game design program requires approval, approval he must have applied for at least a year ago. Even if she tried, both of them stay so busy with school and she has to keep her job up. Maka’s grown to admire the roof over her head, and isn’t quite willing to give that up. 

“Well it’s just that after all this time we spent together, I learned so much about you and…” Soul offers a light laugh before continuing. “You’re really fun to be around, Maka. I’d like to keep seeing you.” All the test-taking nerves are gone and the real Soul she’s gotten to know looks back at her with pleading eyes. 

“You’re not too bad yourself, Evans. You really proved me wrong.”

Soul squints at her unspoken accusation. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean, huh?!”

She punches his shoulder playfully. The heavy bag hanging off his back catches the momentum and he staggers back from Maka’s unexpected strength. She watches in amusement and chuckles as he mouths a silent apology to a student behind him. What he says next jolts her. 

“Wanna go out on a date?”

She’s frozen, still trying to process his words in shock. Nobody ever asks her out. She’s never even thought about dating anyone. For so long, Liz and Patty have tried to sign her up on dating apps, but every time, she’s refused. Soul’s proposal, though… it’s bewildering, it’s…. in person! “W-What?” Maka stutters, breathless as she is. 

He’s still solid in his request, though. “Like, a real date. Just me and you, no projects, no assignments, no work-study.” Soul’s fingers start fidgeting when she’s still taken back in silence. “Or, well... look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just thought that maybe we could still --”

“Of course, Soul,” she answers. He’s cute when he gets nervous about little things like this. It’s hard to leave him hanging when she almost can’t stand the level of adorable he’s displaying right now. 

He suddenly beams a wide smile at her answer and grips the straps of his bag as excitement rises back in his voice again. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Six o’clock tonight, at the cafe? Unless you have work that is…”

“Perfect,” Maka answers with a smile more genuine than ever. If anyone’s proved they are worthy of her time, it’s Soul, and it’s something she just can’t say no to.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“We will be completing a twenty page comic as one of your final projects this semester. I know this sounds daunting, but you can make this easy, or you can make it hard. You will be paired in teams of two and you must work together to ensure that your art flows smoothly with the least amount of noticable differences between your styles. The subject matter of your comic is entirely up to you.” 

It’s different standing before the class as an instructor. Hearing the mutters of the student body reminds Maka of how she’d underestimated this project when Stein gave it to them, how she thought she could pull it off on her own if her partner didn’t participate. It’s so tempting to spill out every trick in the book they used, but teamwork is something they must learn on their own. The third-year teacher ponders whether the same fleeting thoughts crossed Stein’s mind, too. Were his experiences even the same? Hopefully, the young men and women before her won’t let themselves get so bogged down; hopefully, they’ll communicate. 

“I suggest you do not procrastinate,” she continues with a pleasant but firm smile. “This is harder than it sounds and you will have to really talk to each other so you can understand your differences and what you’ll need to do about them.”

She lists each pair one at a time: Tsugumi Harudori and Anya Hepburn, Meme Tatane and Mai Hoang, Akane Hoshi and Clay Sizemore... The list goes on until every one of her students are partnered with someone. Maka’s had to pay close attention to her student body to know who would be best partnered and who would learn the most from the other. Managing so many personalities and levels of skill is more difficult than it seems. Stein is a much better professor than she took him for.

Each group meets up and she recognizes all too well the bickering about who’s preference should win. They’ll have to eventually collaborate and meet halfway if they want to pass, something that had taken her an entire semester to learn. The clock strikes and Maka dismisses class whether they’re happy or not with their new partners. It marks the end of her day, too, so she packs up her notes and gradebook. 

“Have a good evening! See ya tomorrow,” Kim Diehl says and waves her hand in the air merrily as Maka passes through the hallway and towards the exit. 

“See ya tomorrow,” she replies.

The start of the sunset’s rays hit her face just right and she shields her eyes with her hand while holding a tight squint. Sometimes Maka wonders if she should have opted to teach night classes. It would give her a chance to bathe in the early hours of daylight. If she did, Maka would miss out on her favorite part of the day, though.

“Hey, Angel,” a familiar voice beckons. 

Comfort warms her heart over. This is what she lives for. Unkempt white hair. Ruby red eyes. Even those sharp shark-like teeth. The sight never gets old. Maka strolls gleefully up to him and leans up to give a small kiss. Their lips meet and she suddenly feels like she’s home again. 

“Hey, babe, I thought you were gonna take Sally today?”

“Aria missed you, so I dismissed the babysitter,” Soul answers, holding the toddler in his arms. Small arms are wrapped loosely around his neck as the child’s attention turns towards Maka.

Maka happily chides, “Aria! Mommy’s missed you today.” She gently takes the small girl into her arms and holds her close. The child instantly smiles. Now Maka’s day is complete. She soaks in Aria’s tight hold as if nothing else matters. 

The girl couldn’t be any more beautiful: she has her father’s pale pale hair, sparkling shades of emerald and apple shining in her round, gorgeous eyes. Her skin has the most mesmerizing olive tone, not quite as pale as her mother’s but not as tan as her father’s. Aria is the purity that resides between Maka and Soul. “Mommy!” the girl exclaims with pure joy, her small face digging into Maka’s neck gleefully.

“You ready to go home, girlie?” 

Aria nods with a wide smile painted on her face. “Mmmhmmm!”

“So, how’s the new game turning out?” Maka inquires as she follows Soul to the car. She places Aria into the carseat in the back and secures the seat belt firmly.

Soul’s very animated as he speaks. “Oh, man, the whole team is excited! Can’t say I’ve seen one like it.” He fiddles with the keys and starts the engine. It may be a luxury vehicle, but it still carries a pretty purr. He’d wanted to name it Blair, but Maka’s refused every time. Her cat - Soul’s cat - is slowly getting older and she doesn’t want a future reminder of that once she’s gone. 

“Well, it’s not just some sequel. It’s it’s own stand alone title,” Maka says, equally happy that his dream is coming into fruition.

“And thanks to you, it’s actually happening. You’re better at these plot twists than I am.”

Maka blushes. All she did was throw out an idea. Soul’s the one who works hard to visualize it. He pours in hours creating character concepts and scenery that looks absolutely amazing in both pencil and digital painting, yet he still claims that she’s been the brain behind it all along. 

The trip home has Aria merrily humming incoherent lyrics in the back seat and waving her stuffed animal as if the elephant in her hand were alive. Maka reaches for Soul’s free hand and he welcomes the offer, clasping his fingers into hers. 

Their house isn’t huge, but it’s certainly not as small as Maka’s old studio. Their new abode together is a cozy little place, a three bedroom house with a beautiful brick chimney and a vast kitchen much larger than the small corner where he’d first cooked for her all those years ago.

The master bedroom fits a king size bed, which is certainly more comfortable than the twin size bed they shared that first night... and maybe a few more after. She has no regrets, though; he’s her other half, both legally and spiritually. Bearing the name “Evans” was one of the best decisions she’s ever made.

Aria has her own space too, a room decorated with an array of pinks and purples. There’s a special wooden chest with her name painted on it. Thankfully, the girl has a passion for plushies over balls; there’s stuffed animals everywhere. Soul’s continuously gifting the girl with plushies of anime and game characters, too, which sit at the top of a dainty bookshelf. It’s well known that Maka would never let her child go without a set of books, though Soul frequently insists on taking over the collection with superhero stories: Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Spider Gwen… he’s determined that Aria is their little superhero. 

Soul’s busy in the kitchen and Aria is close by him at the dining table, still happy as ever. She’s not tall enough to reach the top easily yet, but she’s finally learned how to climb onto the chairs. Funny how it rings true: daughters tend be daddy’s girls. With them occupied, Maka resolves to step into the office (they reserved the third room to use as an art studio) and takes a seat at the drawing board. 

They won’t have an art studio for long if they don’t upgrade to a larger house, though. Aria’s doing so well with having her own bedroom, and she’d like to keep it that way. Maka hasn’t told Soul yet; instead, she’s been scouring clever ways to announce the news to him. She wants this one to be just as memorable as their first.

Before her is a set of rough sketches and a short draft of words easy enough for children to follow. The character design is slowly forming: a white-haired, green eyed little girl with a cape on and a fist in the air. Maka remembers that moment very well and the vision of Soul suggesting such a nerdy idea replays in her mind. “Put your hand in the air! Like this!” Simply priceless. Never had Maka thought about designing a children’s book until now.

Next to it is something even more nostalgic though. The cover is all too familiar. “How to Not Fuck Up a Comic” (purely Soul’s last minute suggestion). It’s funny reading back through it. At first, it gave them a lot of stress: the arguing, the cooking, the little corrections, erasing all the sprinkled wings, the huge rip, the stripping…One thing stays true about it, though: that’s when her life truly began.

The comic was more than a simple project. It was what drew them together.


End file.
